Eye of the Beholder
by TheSecretUchiha
Summary: For years it remained hidden behind a patch, his glimpse into another life. But when he reaches Hogwarts, this sight, and the mind it leads him to, will help him see the other side of the playing field. Independent!Harry, potentially HPLV.
1. Chapter 1

Idea's been in my head for months so I finally decided to write it... instead of revising for my psych exam tomorrow morning (it's multichoice, it's fine!)

Lengthier boring notes at the end for people who actually are interested aka no one.

Disclaimer: It is my belief that, in a passed life, I was JKR, and I was reborn during the same timeframe as me-her. Can I claim the rights?

* * *

Eye of the Beholder

Chapter One - Eye Of The Storm

The sky was turning from burnt orange to an equally vibrant peony pink as he walked along Old Lodge Lane with the bumbling giant beside him. Taking a glance at the man, Harry could almost believe he _was_a giant, if magic was true then surely it was possible. When the first glimpse of the orphanage came into sight, he turned to Hagrid, giving him a dubious smile which, non the less, gained him a toothy grin in response.

Struggling to keep the sneer from his face, Harry motioned to the building, "I'm sure I'll manage from here, Mr Hagrid," the 'just Hagrid for you Harry' had been dismissed irrefutably the moment it was said, and thankfully Hagrid hadn't pressed again, though he had been certainly less enthusiastic since. "I have lived here most of my life after all."

Harry felt no guilt for pained flinch the man didn't attempt to conceal, as far as he was aware, the man deserved to feel guilt for his suffering, and he had no qualms with using it against him.

"Well, I suppose yeh'll be fine from here. Yeh remember about gettin' the train? got yer ticket?" at Harry's suffering nods, Hagrid drew himself up with a shudder and, hesitating for a brief moment, ruffled up the young wizard's hair with one large palm.

He gave another toothy grin before turning quickly, setting off up the street at the brisk march as if he could feel the young saviour's one visible eye watching his departure coldly.

When finally the gamekeeper disappeared from his view onto the next street, Harry turned, lifting the cage holding his striking owl from where he had sat it as the two of them parted ways, and leisurely strolled the rest of the way down the street until he stood before the drear orphanage he reluctantly called home. The grey concrete walls and chipping paintwork gave an accurate impression of the building's age and current neglect. However despite what the outside looked like, Harry was aware that it wasn't the most needy orphanage within London - nor was it the most affluent: it was just South of central, and he had made do with it for nearly seven years now.

His feet carried him unconsciously through the front door, up two sets of stairs and down a corridor, painted magnolia in a failed attempt to lighten the hearts of those who traversed the wooden floors each day. Placing his new belongings down on the wobbly desk and his trunk at the end of his bed, he lay back on his bed, careful to keep his feet hanging over the end - lest one of the matrons disturbs him and brings him grief - and took a moment to think over his day.

* * *

There had been no indication at the start of the day, no reason to assume that by ten o' clock his world would have been so categorically altered. When he attended breakfast at barely seven, the first to rise of the orphanage's charges as always, the matrons had given him warm, if somewhat hesitant, smiles and wished him a happy birthday and asked if he would like anything special cooked for him that morning. His expression did not change and he gave them a silent shake of the head before he took the bowl of cereal that was handed to him. He allowed himself an internal smile as the women continued their blathering around him: he would admit being slightly fond of the women who saw to their needs each day, even if he distanced himself from them. They quietened as the head of the orphanage walked in, smiling when she spotted him sitting silently fishing flakes from his bowl.

"Ah, Harry, just who I was looking for. I received a letter in the post regarding you yesterday, all good, don't you worry." Where she got the impression he was worrying from, he couldn't say, but allowed her to continue. "I would've told you about this yesterday, give you more time to come to terms with it, but I had to make sure it was official first, such a strange name," she muttered the last part to herself before seeming to realise she was heading off on a tangent. "Well, anyway, the letter says that you've been offered a place at a boarding school in Scotland. Someone's coming here today to tell you about the school and take you to London to pick up supplies. The headmaster has assured me the man's reliable, but I'm sure one of the girls can go with you as well, I don't think sending you into London with-"

"I'll be fine Mrs Port. I've been out on my own in London before, and if I'm going to be attending this school, it's necessary for me to trust them." He eased her fears, though the questioning look on her face let him know she still wanted to protest to someone going with him. However, after several moments silence, she nodded reluctantly. "You take my phone for the day though young man, and if anything happens, you ring one of the girls or my office and someone will come get you straight away!"

This time he couldn't stop the small smile reaching his face, and she let out a reassured sigh. He could see her hand twitching against the table, wanting to reach across and touch him in some motherly manner, however they had all learnt of his dislike of physical displays of emotion towards him, so settled with standing up before her smile faded entirely.

Pacing out into the hall, her voice echoed back into the kitchen, "He'll be here at ten."

He finished his cereal quickly, passing his bowl to one of the girls who were now coo-ing over him even more than previously.

Half an hour later he found himself laying on his bed, a book open before him. He had planned to go to the library that day and change some of the books he had out for others, but with an appointment now at ten o' clock, he decided to put it off for a day: two hours wasn't nearly enough for him to get to the library, pick out the books he wanted and get back in time. He had enough books to keep his interest for the weekend at least.

Harry's head shot up from the book as he felt two people approaching his room. One he instantly recognised as Mrs Port, the other though, was restless and anxious, the aura around them greatly different from what he felt around any one else in the orphanage. It had energy, life.

He pulled himself out of his stupor as they reached his door, several small knocks making a request for entrance.

Slowly he stood from the bed and pulled the door open, his eyes widening briefly in shock at the gigantic man before him, before returning quickly to their normal size, giving Mrs Port an expectant look.

"Harry, this is Mr Hagrid, he's from the school I told you about earlier. Do you want to show him to the dining room where you can talk?"

Harry nodded, mutely, ignoring the curious looks Hagrid was giving him and leading him down the hall as Mrs Port watched cautiously.

Once the door was closed behind the two of them, the large dining room suddenly seeming to shrink in size by the intrusion of Hagrid's giant berth, Harry offered Hagrid a seat whilst he took his own, eyeing the chair curiously as it seemed undecided on whether to support the weight or not. It was then Harry caught sight of the pink umbrella in the man's hand, as it tapped gently on the chair's legs. It was strange, the weather today was clear and bright, and the rest of the week was meant to be similar. Why carry an umbrella with him? Keeping that in mind, he looked at Hagrid who was beaming across the table at him.

Unnerved by the overly-happy expression, and on-going silence, Harry placed his hands delicately on the table and opened his mouth to introduce himself formally.

However the giant beat him to it.

"Haven' see yeh since yer a baby Harry! Yeh look jus' like yer father, except the eyes, yeh've got Lily's eyes!"

Momentarily taken back, Harry took a second to gather himself again, "You know me?"

"Course I know yeh Harry, I was the one who brought yeh to the Dursley's on Dumbledore's orders!" the giant announced, proudly.

Whatever he had expected, it wasn't for Harry's eye to narrow in hatred.

"So you're the reason I can't see out of my right eye..."

* * *

So, um, yeah, it's a new story... oops.

This has been on my mind for months now, since watching a certain anime.

I have my psych exam tomorrow morning, which I should've been revising for, but I suddenly got the urge to write, and atm, that doesn't happen much, so I needed to do it and this is what came out. The second chapter is already written, and i'm really into writing this. I'm planning to do more after psych tomorrow, it's my last exam then i have a three week break (uni is just awesome, so many holidays!)

I apologise if there are any mistakes in grammar/spelling. Since my computer died and was reborn, I lost all my programs, including Microsoft Office and haven't been able to get the disk to my computer yet to reinstall it, thus I'm working with a most horrendous tool known as WordPad. There is no spell check, word count, basically anything. I've rechecked it several times, and used the spell check on fanfic, so nothing should've got through, but mistakes happen.

Anyway, about the actual story: I know not much happens in this chapter, but I need a way in, which has some relevance to the plot and introducing it, and I often find the best way to do that is quite possibly the most boring and unimportant. So, apologies, but alas this is how it is!

So, feedback would be nice, but I know how it goes, so even just alerts would be cool!

Final note this time! Just incase, I haven't seen this idea before, but if someone else has used it previously, I apologise, any similarities between my fic and yours is completely unintentional. Also, I would love to read what someone else has done with this idea if it is already out there but, as I say, I'm pretty sure it isn't!


	2. Chapter 2

Don't you just hate it when you make changes to things, go to save it and fanfic decides it has a problem with that and you lose everything you just changed? multiple times?

Anyway, here's chapter two. Hopefully it's not too confusing!

Disclaimer: You would know if I owned HP, things would go _very_ differently...

* * *

Chapter Two - Red Eye

One of Harry's first implicit memories was his first days of school. The teacher had been all smiles and each of them had stood up to say their part. The teacher he remembered with tender, if strained, memories. She had been the first person to give him any form of positive attention, even if it was divided between a class of twenty three more exuberant four or five year olds.

He wasn't completely sure anymore, but the probability was that he had introduced himself, and told everyone he liked spiders - they had been his only companions then. He remembered the terrified feeling of so many eyes upon him, and that he shook as he spoke and quickly sank back into his seat. The teacher, Miss Collins, had smiled kindly and the next child had taken their turn.

The next day the teacher had smiled at them all as they came in, giving Harry a cheerful wink, "Do you like playing pirate, Harry?"

His face had shown confusion, "what's a pirate miss Collins?"

She had looked slightly confused then but let it slide, "A pirate sails the seas. They wear a patch on one eye like you, have a wooden leg and a parrot. sometimes they even have a hook instead of a hand!"

He could only imagine the awed look that must have crossed his face as he smiled cautiously, one hand going to his right eye, covered by the toy patch.

Miss Collins had reached out a hand and led him towards the clear space, announcing to the class, "Why don't we start with a story today? Has anyone heard of Peter Pan?"

The next day Miss Collins had smiled when he appeared, for the third time, with a patch on his eye, "I guess you like pirates even more now Harry?"

He had shaken his head, "The pirate in the story was scary... he reminds me of my uncle."

She frowned as he walked past her quietly and took his seat. She had easily picked him out as the most quiet in the class: heck, he was the most quiet four year old she'd come across in her years of teaching, but his comparison between Captain Hook and his uncle had her concerned.

During their break time that day, she took him aside to talk about 'pirates'.

"Have you thought anymore about pirates Harry?"

He shook his head, not speaking yet as his eyes darted to the door in what he had thought a discrete manner. "I didn't want to think about them anymore, they're scary."

"If you don't want to think about them anymore, why don't you take that patch off? Surely it must remind you of the pirates?"

He shook his head furiously, "I'm not allowed to take the patch off! Aunt Petunia put it on when I was little, she doesn't like to see my eye."

Miss Collins managed to smile instead of the frown that wanted to cross her face, "But doesn't it hurt, that's only a toy and it shouldn't be warn for too long!" she asked, the concern in her voice clear.

He had sat there silently for a minute, taking several glances around to make sure no one else was listening. After confirming the room was, in fact, empty apart from themselves, he had turned back to stare at Miss Collins' feet. "It itches and stings, and my skin gets really sore. Sometimes if it moves too much it makes it bloody..."

She leaned forwards, placing one hand on his knee, making a mental note of the flinch this provoked. "Can I see your eye Harry?"

He had been extremely hesitant, his aunt always assuring him no one wanted to see his freaking eye, that she was doing everyone a favour in hiding it.

"It's really ugly," he whispered, his voice barely audible over the whirring of the office fan.

"I think I'll be the judge of that. You understand that, as a teacher, I need to know if there's something wrong with one of my class? If something happened Harry, then I might not be able to do anything, and things would get worse!"

He looked away and bit his lip, worrying the flesh between his teeth. "I- I guess you can see it, just don't tell Aunt Petunia!"

Slowly he reached behind his head to the strap, watching her all the while as if waiting for her to stop him. When she didn't he looked away as he pulled the patch away.

Gently grasping his chin, she pulled his eyes up to meet hers and gasped, her hand falling away at the sight of two eyes staring at her; one pure emerald green, the other slitted red.

Harry quickly looked away again at her gasp, fumbling with the straps of the patch as he quickly placed it back over his eye.

Her hands grasped his wrist before he could tie it, unintentionally exerting more pressure than necessary, though he didn't flinch.

"I'm sorry Harry, I was just shocked. There's nothing wrong so would you let me have a proper look?"

He hesitantly removed the patch again and looked back at her.

She was shocked to see the lightning bolt scar on his forehead - which had been explained away by his aunt as a souvenir of his parents' drunken car crash - actually extended across his eyebrow and right down to his eye. There was no sign of a laceration on the eye itself, but something had definitely caused the change, his eye was not natural.

Another thing that stood out to her was that, whilst his green eye fixed on her, waiting for her response, the red eye constantly flickered back and forward, as if examining his surroundings.

"Can you see out of this eye?" she asked, waving one finger in front of the boy.

There was no need for him to answer really, as his left eye continued to follow as her finger began to make circles, whilst the other stared left, then quickly looked up then right.

However what he did say shocked her, "I can see a forest but I'm very small, like I'm lying down while looking around. I'm always moving around as well, and looking in case things jump out at me. It's always been like that."

She smiled, not quite sure what to think about that.

"Has anyone, a doctor or optician, ever looked at your eye Harry?"

"I don't know what an optikan is, but Aunt Petunia doesn't let anyone see my eye, she says it's freaky and she doesn't like freakish things in her house..."

"Well Harry, I think it would be a really good idea if we let the school nurse have a look at this, just in case something really bad could happen!"

He looked reluctant again, "But Aunt Petunia said I'm not allowed to show anyone, otherwise I won't get food for a day!"

She wanted to say he was just being silly, but from the signs so far she doubted it. Instead she puffed up and smiled at him, "And is your Aunt Petunia a teacher?" he shook his head, "And who do you think knows better, me or your Aunt Petunia?"

His reluctance faded slightly as he smiled, "You!" though she noticed he still looked around himself cautiously.

"Well then, let's go see Mrs Mitchell then, shall we?"

* * *

That day the school nurse had given him a general check over and soon after that Social Services were brought in. While the nurse's preliminary findings, along with Miss Collins' evidence from her gentle questionings, was enough to have him taken from the Dursley's care and a thorough review of their child handling capabilities authorized, Harry was taken to the hospital for a proper check up with a doctor, especially focussing on his eye.

He explained to the doctor that he had got it when his parents had died in the car crash, which was also the reason he was staying with his aunt and uncle. The police called them back later on to explain that there hadn't been any traffic accidents within the last ten years involving anyone named Potter, and that, other than Harry's birth certificate, there were no files mentioning him at all: how he had reached the Dursley's was anyone's guess.

He had spent his first night in the orphanage then, and was brought back to the hospital to find out the results of his tests the next day by a man who was called Mr Brown, which Harry had found funny as he had blond hair and blue eyes. The doctor explained that nothing like this had ever been seen before: the eye didn't respond to any motion or light stimuli yet, from the level of neural signals being transmitted from it, it appeared as if it really was seeing images. He said that, with enough money, an eye specialist may be able to shed more light on the subject, but otherwise it didn't seem to be doing any damage, other than the occasional pains Harry admitted to feeling. He concluded with the regret that, if a doctor had looked at the damage as soon as it had happened, maybe something could have been done to save the original vision of the eye, or at least stop the pains from occurring.

And today, he had met one of the men responsible for not receiving that medical treatment when necessary, and the other, it would appear, is his new headmaster.

* * *

If this was confusing, let me know! Hopefully things will get clearer in the next chapter - which is already written! I'm trying to have the next chapter written before I publish the chapters, let's hope it works!

Also, I don't actually know what it would take to have a child removed from the custody of someone, so sorry if that's unrealistic. It seemed good enough to me, but I could be vastly wrong.


	3. Chapter 3

Thank you to everyone who's reviewed, they really make my day! However one reviewer pointed out that the flashbacks might be causing more confusion as they're not in chronological order. This is completely valid, and I'm not trying to offend the reviewer in any manner, I just want to get other people's opinions as well. Did anyone else find this overcomplicated things or confused them? It was written that way as you're following Harry through this, and those flashbacks occurred as he thought of them. Just wanted to know what other people thought.

Any other authors reading this might understand when I talk about that amazing feeling you get when one of your all time favourite authors adds you as an alert or something? Well, my most favourite author ever, Aya Macchiato, reviewed! Once again thank you so much! But now I have that 'OMG, she's reading this? It has to be perfect' feeling, and am really worried I'm going to screw up. But I guess I should just focus on writing it the best I can. ^^

So thank you once again to all who reviewed, hope this chapter's worth it!

Disclaimer: If I owned HP instead of JKR, it would probably go something like 'Descent into Darkness' ^^ (Aya Macchiato's work! of course!)

* * *

Chapter Three - Eye Spy

The next day Harry set out early, bag on back, telling the matrons he was headed to the library and was planning to make a day of it. It was a testament to how frequently he spent time within the shelves of books that hardly a head turned, and only a mutter about the library being his second home was heard. He smirked, and, keeping a tight grasp on the urge to add a skip to his step, headed back to Diagon Alley: surely they didn't expect him to make do with just a glance yesterday?

His introduction to the wizarding alley had been a start, but he knew he had barely brushed the surface therefore another trip was in order. Hagrid's presence had limited the depth with which he could delve into the culture. He was itching to revisit the book store; have more than just school robes fitted; learn more about his inheritance from the goblins and, of course, investigate that dark alley that Hagrid had blatantly directed him away from. The giant had stopped him buying many things that had greatly interested him with words of caution: "Best not spend too much Harry, yer trust has to last yeh until yer seventeen!" He had been shocked, but pleasantly so, to find that the age of majority was seventeen, rather than eighteen in the wizarding community - he could move out into his own space a year earlier than planned, even if it was far off yet. However Hagrid's words had meant barely anything to him. He had seen how much money was in only his trust vault, and after the shopping, had gained an understanding of the physical value of each coin - what he could get for his money. There was enough gold to last him more than comfortably for several years passed seventeen! And he understood well the issue of finances: the matron gave compulsory 'life-skills' lessons to the older years to prepare them for leaving and Harry had sat through each of them, much to the amusement of Mrs Port, who couldn't believe a child could desire to listen to talk on mortgages and loans - she had enough trouble getting the teenagers to come along. And so he knew, in order to take proper care of his finances, he would have to see more than just his vault.

Of course the goblins were more than willing to accommodate his request, drawing him swiftly into a richly furnished office and settling account folders in front of him for his perusal. Of course, the goblin explained, he wouldn't be able to take control of the family estate until adulthood, including the many business investments currently against the Potter name. Until that time, it would remain under goblin management unless he named another which he wasn't inclined to do, the goblins seemed rather partial to him at present, so he would let them keep control on his money if it kept him on their good side. After making several small adjustments to the running of his account, and with a 'magic money bag', as he mockingly referred to it as, he made his way into Diagon Alley again. Making his decision to leave the book store till last, however much he longed to make it his first stop, he knew there laid the enticement of not leaving the store until closing time, and there really was much to do.

He made his way to the robe maker's shop, entering to a tinkling chime and following the young assistant through to the back room.

Unlike his visit yesterday, someone else was already being fitted with the plain black of the school uniform. The boy had flaxen hair, the feathery locks falling to cover his ears and he stood straight, with the same air he had seen in several people throughout Diagon Alley the previous day. He was small and slim, what one might call delicate, if his strong stance didn't destroy those illusions. He glanced at Harry as he entered, his cornflower blue eyes giving him a once over before turning away, obviously disinterested.

Hagrid had made awkward conversation throughout the previous trip, though much of it had proved helpful, if irritating. One, rather long winded, speech had regarded the 'pure-bloods', a term he explained to mean those with untainted wizarding ancestry, the larger percentage of which being rich and pretentious - not that Hagrid used such words. He then proceeded to offer Harry some advice: "If yer goin' to be makin' friends with any o' 'em pure-bloods, Harry, yeh make sure it's the Weasleys. Can' do much better than 'em! And can' miss 'em either, largest flock o' red heads in Britain, I'd guess! Yeh can trust a Weasley Harry, don' yeh forget tha'!" Not that Harry put much stock Hagrid's advice, he'd made his intentions to be acquaintances at best with the man blatantly clear - he wasn't sure Hagrid had caught on.

Taking the indicated stool and holding his arms out as the charmed tape measure began to take the lengths of his arms, he found himself naturally mimicking the pure-blood's stature and expression, as he let his gaze rove over the various materials and equipment scattered throughout the room. Glancing left as Madam Malkin clapped her hands together once, he watched the other boy step off the stool, ignoring the hand offered to assist.

"There we go Mr Nott, Isabella will finish making the arrangements for you."  
Harry turned to face Madam Malkin as Nott gave her a dismissive look, leaving the room.

"Well then Mr Potter, what can I do for you today?" she beamed.

From the corner of his eye, Harry noticed Nott freeze, turning to look at him with unconcealed shock. Managing much more efficiently to keep his smirk from his face, Harry gave the overly friendly woman a disinterested glance, "Yesterday my _companion_ was rather controlling over what I was, or was not, allowed to spend _my_ money on. Today I would like to purchase some casual and formal robes, as well as several cloaks. Also, if you can provide such, a new patch for my eye."

He gave her an expectant look, ignoring the uncertain way she twisted her robes in her fist.

"Are you sure that's alright? If Hagrid said that you shouldn't spend your-"

"Exactly Madam, _my_ money. If you do not wish to cater for me, then I shall find another robe shop to purchase from," he proposed, his face emotionless even as he made the suggestion.

She chuckled warmly, though both Harry and Nott could detect some caution in the sound. "No need for that Mr Potter, just don't want to be going against the headmaster if he's set certain restrictions, that's all."

He withheld a sneer, turning to glance at the door as the assistant reappeared next to Nott, offering him some parchment and a quill before turning back to face the wall, disinterested, as Nott left the room.

"Seems like everyone's catering to Dumbledore's whims around here," he mumbled under his breath.

* * *

By the time he arrived back at the orphanage that night, he was holding back the yawns. After Madam Malkin's, he had taken a break for lunch at the first cafe he had come across. Unlike his time yesterday when people had stared at him after Hagrid had loudly declared his name several times, he was able to avoid the looks of ridiculous awe - though his eye patch did gain him suspicious glances. He supposed, unless you knew who he was, you wouldn't suspect him to be the 'Boy-Who-Lived', he scoffed at the ridiculous name. His black hair easily covered the long bolt shaped scar that continued beneath his patch.

As his robes weren't due to be ready until the following day, and having observed Knockturn Alley whilst he ate his lunch, he decided to wait until he had at least a hooded cloak to better disguise his identity before he scoped out that area. Having completed his other tasks, this left him with a glorious afternoon to choose a large selection of books - he had allowed to shop assistant to keep the change when he had charmed them for him to get them home with ease.

Now he lay on his bed, one of his school books open before him, yet his left eye simply gazing at the pages.

His attention, instead, was on what he could see through his covered eye. He had stopped telling anyone that his eye was more than just blind, as far as he was concerned, it was no one's business whether he could see with it or not, and whenever people had asked him about it, he had ignored them until they left. And he made sure they all left him alone eventually.

However, with one eye always displaying a very different scene from what is physically in front of him, he spent most of his time only observing the occurrences in his left eye, by mentally focusing on blocking out the other eye. Occasionally his attention slipped, showing him glimpses of the forest before he regained concentration, but by now it was almost second nature to maintain this state, until the moment he fell to sleep.

Sometimes his dreams would be invaded by, what he assumed was the actual reality occuring somewhere far off in the world, and he would spend the night hunting or travelling in the body of various small animals. It confused him, that he was never in the same body for more than several days, why was his eye showing him the lives of different woodland creatures? He had concluded several years ago that it was something he would never find out.

At present though, as he stared at his book without seeing, his mind was focused on the goings on visible only to himself, something he did every few days to see whether anything had changed. Tonight, for the first time, something had.

The first thing Harry noticed was the sky. It was just getting dark, the same as the orphanage whereas it had always been about two hours ahead previously. His second observation was he was tall, taller than he'd ever been before, and he caught a glimpse of hands, swaying back and forth as he moved - he was human, for the first time in nearly a decade.

The final thing to catch his attention were the buildings that loomed up on parallel sides, rather than the randomly dispersed trees that had always surrounded him before. Harry took in his surroundings, curious as to anything that might explain this sudden upheaval of the norm. Suddenly his eyes caught a glimpse of white stone up ahead, and his body jumped with shock, bringing him out of his observational trance, though the events still played before his eye.

His eyes once more focussed on the book infront of him, a history of magic book, detailing the Goblin Rebellions, still unseeing of any words.

He couldn't believe it. That had been Gringotts. The man his eye led to was a wizard!

* * *

So, yes, I know most of us knew that already, but Harry didn't! This is probably the most detailed fic I've written to date, so I'm sorta nervous (I get nervous a lot when publishing fics) that's it's too detailed, and that's making it boring? Yes? No?

I absolutely adore using Theo! He's so non-existent in the books, tbh I'm surprised JKR gave him a name! He mocks hermione in potions and harry exposes his dad as a de, does he appear anywhere else? Oh, the threstles as well, but other than that, JKR literally handed us a blank character with a name and nothing else - how generous. If there is an actual description of his appearance somewhere, I would much like to know. I couldn't find one online and didn't bring the books with me to uni! I hate not having books to reference!

Chapter Four is written, so it should be out in a day, apologies for the super long notes everywhere!


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: If I owned the rights to HP, I probably wouldn't have needed to take a student loan...

* * *

Chapter Four - Bright Eyed and Bushy Haired

The first of September came upon Harry much faster than he would've liked. Mrs Port had made arrangements to hold a meeting in London that day, however the schedule left her only time to drop Harry off, rather than see him onto the train as she had no doubt intended. This was fine with Harry as she not aware of the specifics of the boarding school he was attending, nor would she ever be. He was also relieved he would not have to suffer her mothering for longer than necessary. He could admit he was slightly fond of the woman, but he could already tell she would become extremely emotional seeing him go, and he was rather opposed to physical contact when he could avoid it.

She helped him pull his trunk out of the boot of the car, then passed Hedwig, a name he pulled from one of his new books, out to him. Even with the spells that kept her from becoming too curious about Hogwarts - a form of mental muggle repellent, preventing thoughts on a subject - she still seemed to give Hedwig confused glances every now and then before shaking her head, as if flicking the thought out of her mind. It frustrated him greatly that the wizarding world could so simply alter a muggle's mind - how many times did they do that in a year to keep themselves hidden? Would it not be better to just separate the two cultures entirely?

He too shook those thoughts away, nodding to her once as she smiled and passed him a small paper bag.

"The girls and I all put a bit together and bought you that. Something to remember us by for the year."

He opened it and pulled out a notebook, the front covered with embellished manuscript.

"I know you won't open up to anyone there, and I should have probably got you something to write you thoughts down in many years ago when you didn't make any friends at the orphanage and some of the older boys would pick on you because of your eye. But whenever you feel the need to let something out, you write it down in there and get it off your chest Harry."

He nodded, and at that moment he wished he could bring himself to show his emotions - smile and thank her for the present, maybe even allow her to hug him. But he wouldn't, instead he nodded to her, his face blank as a slate. From the look on her face though, he thought she understood.

He turned and began to push his trolley into the station, hearing the car door close then a few seconds later the engine starting and the car pulling away.

He was pleased with how that had gone. The workers at the orphanage would always be in his favour, but creating ties with them was not something he wanted to do. He could be fond of them while he was there, but as soon as he was able, he would be moving away. He had his own money now, and would be able to provide for himself as soon as he came of age.

* * *

Heading to the platforms, he looked around for a sign directing him to number nine. The ticket Hagrid had handed him was in his right pocket, on it it stated simply, Kings Cross, Platform Nine and Three Quarters. He drastically hoped that any other witches and wizards brought up in the muggle world were not sent Hagrid to assist them: he had nearly left Harry with a ticket giving a platform number he knew didn't exist, though he had never been to Kings Cross station before. Had he visited before, he would have had no need to worry, he thought, as he approached a seemingly solid brick wall. The energy pulsing around it was obvious to any witch or wizard, anyone would be able to sense an aura that strong with ease.

He approached the barrier, feeling the aura reach out and wrap around him when he was only five or so metres away. 'That must be a perception filter of some kind, or maybe just a simple illusion - something like a door way with one of those anti-muggle wards to keep them from investigating.' Pushing aside those thoughts for another time when he could actually pull some of his books out and investigate the phenomena, he moved forward through the barrier.

He barely kept himself from stopping to stare at the magnificent sight the moment he appeared on the other side - not a sensible thing to do with an open gateway that several hundred children with their parents would be coming through. As he moved away from the portal, and along the side of the train passed the carriages, he admired the beauty of its craftsmanship.

There were just short of a hundred student on the platform, Harry estimated, but with just gone half an hour left, he could guess they would soon be flooding into the station.

He carried on down the train, pushing his trolley passed all the happily conversing families, and to the very last carriage where he took a compartment for himself.

Placing Hedwig's cage onto the seat first, he stepped back out to give his trunk a contemplative stare. Had he not been informed by Hagrid that practising magic outside of school before coming of age was illegal, he would have attempted the charm 'Wingardium Leviosa' to move his heavy trunk into the carriage, and later pleaded ignorance if charges were pressed, and with his name he knew he would have easily got away with it. The Wizarding World's Saviour, he sneered mentally to himself, unintentionally giving his trunk a death glare.

A shadow fell over his trunk, giving him cause to look up into the smirking face of a familiar boy.

"Theodore Nott, I'm afraid we got off on the wrong foot in Madame Malkin's."

The boy offered his hand which Harry grasped, his facial expression not changing, not that Nott seemed to mind.

"Harry Potter."

"What say I give you a hand getting your trunk onto the train?" he offered, already leaning down to grasp one side.

Nodding his acceptance, Harry bent down and took the other end, hefting it up the step from platform to train. Even with the two of them it took a bit of shifting and sliding - both of them being rather slim - and Harry was almost amused to see the pure-blooded Nott looking rather flushed by the time they succeeded.

Giving Harry his first unguarded smile, he stood back from the trunk. "What do you have in there?" he laughed.

"A small library," Harry's face remained blank, yet Nott gave a snort of amusement anyway and moved towards the door before hesitating and looking back at him, "You're not at all what I'd expected."

Harry allowed the slightest of smirks to form on his face, barely an upwards twitch of the lips, but enough to make Nott smile. "Then I would advice you don't 'expect' anything else from me."

* * *

Harry had been surprised when, half an hour into the journey he still had the compartment to himself. After Nott had left he had shifted through his trunk and pulled out an extra potions book he had purchased. Harry had spent the time since learning about his heritage with his head in his books and such had finished reading the course books in a week and a half. Since then he had begun plowing through the additional books he had bought to both get ahead of the other students in classwork, and catch up with those students born and raised in the wizarding world. Not that Harry did it to compete with his future peers: he simply found reading, and thus knowledge, addictive and could always be found reading some factual or informative reference. For this reason the matrons were not concerned. When Harry first arrived at the orphanage, he had been shy and, with his eye patch, the target of bullying with an additional fear of human contact. Since then Harry's best friends had always been his books, and it showed well on his reports.

At school he had been eagerly shuffled up three years as he just consumed the knowledge he was given in class, then haunted the library after school, delving into each subject in more depth. The teachers had been worried, but the matrons understood this was how Harry was happiest, and hoped eventually he would open up to people as well. Harry didn't see this happening.

He was just starting to read about 'Fingle's Principle of Corresponding and Contradictory Herbs' when the door was thrown open and a bushy haired girl looked in.

"Have you seen a toad? Neville's lost his."

Harry shook his head, not looking up from the passage he was reading, even as she moved further into the room and looked over the top of the book to see the content.

Reading the title, her voice took on a slightly anxious tone, "We don't need to know Fingle's Principle! It's only briefly mentioned in the course text!"

Harry glanced at her and shrugged, hoping she'd get the hint and leave him alone. Thankfully she did, closing the door sharply behind her, though he had the feeling from he agitated aura that she left more out of fear of falling behind someone and was going to peruse her own volumes, than out of any respect for his wishes.

He shook his head, already people were pestering him, maybe he should've just declined the offer. Turning his attention back to the chapter, he shook his head. What a ridiculous thought.

* * *

So, I think this is going well, hope it's still keeping the interest ^^

As seems to be working at present, Chapter Five is already written, and I'm slightly fond of it, meaning something actually happens! lol


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: I have more chance of winning the lottery than owning the rights of HP. Here's to hoping, because I've got a ticket for the lotto as I'm writing this. By the time this is published I may be a millionaire... Update - I'm not, didn't win a pound. Sucks.

* * *

Chapter Five - Sight For Sore Eyes

Harry felt the train slowing as they approached the station and placed his book back into his trunk, gave Hedwig a brief stroke in her cage before standing and straightening his robes. He took a moment to look out the window as the raucous children poured off the train, knowing it was a similar state of affair outside his compartment and resigning himself to wait for several moments until the rush had ceased. When finally there were only a few people leaving the train at a much more relaxed pace he took up the cane he had purchased in Diagon Alley and exited his compartment. He had bought the cane the same day he had collected his new robes from Madam Malkin, along with a new, more comfortable patch for his eye. She had looked on with a frown as he turned away to replaced the old with the newer possession and took the bags she handed him.

"Is your sight alright with only one eye deary? Maybe you should get a cane just to be sure: you would certainly fit the image of a young noble with one in your fresh new robes..."

The idea, though unnecessary as he had grown accustomed to having only one eye over many years, had stuck in his head and, taking the directions the woman had given him, he had ended up coming away with a simple black cane, the handle a slinking panther crafted from silver with small emerald eyes. He found the dipped body fit snugly into his palm. A small luxury he thought he quite deserved.

It was therefore, no surprise that the remaining elder students glanced his way as he stepped out of the carriage and joined the back of the group of small first years surrounding the great landmark that Hagrid became. He glanced at Harry over the heads of everyone else, his eyes widening slightly before sweeping his gaze over the rest of the heads.

"Is tha' everyone? Right we are then, follow me an' keep close, we'll be takin' the boats over the Black Lake," his gruff voice carrying over the students, most of them staring up at him with wide eyes.

He turned, leading them out of the station and towards some steps, evidently leading down to the lake.

"Watch yer step, the steps are slippy," he called over his shoulder as he began to descend. Continuing to follow behind the mass of shivering first years, Harry was last to reach the steps and take a glance at the body of black, icy water that stretched far in front of him and around the outcrop of rock that currently shielded his view of the castle he would call home for the next few months. Using his cane to give himself extra support against the cracked, slippery steps, he mentally cursed the stupidity of this tradition. 'Let's just take a group of eleven year olds down steep, narrow and treacherous stairs that lead to chilling waters that could easily sweep a small child away, never to be seen again.' He had never been more thankful for the school swimming lessons in his life.

Finally they reached a slightly sheltered platform at the base where ships were docked waiting for their arrival.

"No more than four to a boat!" Hagrid announced, taking a seat in his own boat as several students watched it dip, doubtful it would remain afloat.

Harry quickly settled at the back of a boat with two identical girls and a brown haired boy who was ignoring each of them.

The boats shuddered forwards, the fleet all separated by barely two feet, allowing the students to see the expressions on each others faces as they progressed.

"Be gettin' yer first view o' Hogwarts round this corner," Hagrid announced, his voice cutting through the few whispered remarks being exchanged on other boats.

Harry looked up as the boats turned, bringing Hogwarts into sight in an instant. He took in the warm light bathing down across the lake from the high windows, along with the many turrets and the great walls. His hard eyes softened as the warm light hit him, accompanied by the feel of the building's latent magic. Even the magic contained within Diagon Alley wasn't as potent as that held within the ancient halls before him. The magic tingled across his skin and followed the flow of his blood as it rushed through his body. Yes, he could easily call this place home.

* * *

Hagrid had led them to the very front door of the castle and proceeded to pound the door several times, loud enough to send several birds flying from where they perched in the nearest line of trees. The monstrous doors opened without a sound, revealing the silhouette of a pointy hat wearing person.

"The firs' years, Professor McGonagall," Hagrid declared, as the surrounding pupils took in the sight of the woman in front of them. She was stern-faced, with greying black hair pulled up tightly into an unadorned bun. However Harry was entranced by the powerful aura she exuded, even with the tightly held constraint on her magic, preventing it from whipping around her in uncontrolled currents. She was undoubtedly the strongest witch or wizard he'd come across yet, and he was thankful that, if she was any indication, the teachers at the school would be most credible. Even her apparent strict demeanour was to Harry's liking: they were there to learn, in his opinion, and, whilst he would not actively demean any of his year mates fun, he did not want their activities to impede on his studies. With Professors that the students could respect and abide by, they would be more inclined to save their squabbles and jokes for outside of the class, and then he could easily secrete himself somewhere, away from noisy children.

They were led into a small chamber to wait until they were ready to be sorted, Professor McGonagall having told them the names of the four houses during her welcome. Now, for the first time as a group, the first years were beginning to examine each other, recognising that they could soon be separated from the tentative friendships they'd made on the train, and many eyes lingered on Harry.

He had casually placed himself against the back wall, where he could see all the others. None seemed inclined to cross the small gap between him and them to introduce themselves, though their gazes fixed on his patch, then his cane before flickering away as he caught their eye with his visible one. Just as an ill at ease silence was settling over the group, a girl to the right of the room, screamed, jumping backwards into her friend and sending them both to the ground. The rest of the students scrabbled back, right to where Harry was standing, as several ghosts appeared through the wall.

Harry ignored the conversation as best he could, only picking up on the fact that they had been unaware of the first years before appearing. Nott, appearing beside him verbalised his thoughts, "bet they do that every year."

He nodded, looking to the other people that had approached with Nott, waiting for an introduction.

"Harry, this is Draco Malfoy. Draco, Harry." He motioned between them, "Draco is an acquaintance of mine."

Harry acknowledge the platinum blond with a nod, turning to face the front as McGonagall reappeared.

* * *

The older students went earily silent as they entered, before breaking out in whispers, most likely with no other purpose than to terrify the younger students out of their wits. However, even with the combined hissing sound produced by many whispers overlapping, and an obnoxious declaration about the ceiling from about half way down the procession, the echoing 'click... click... click...' of his cane touching the ground was audible and many of the students stopped whispering to look round for the source of the periodic tapping. Quickly whispers broke out again, as he had found they were wont to do, or so it seemed at present. He heard a scoff from his right and turned to look at the culprit, or culprits as it seemed, when he spotted two identical red heads, sitting at the table on his far right. They both looked away quickly as his eye closed into a glare aimed at them.

McGonagall brought out a stool and hat, placing them at the top of the few steps separating the students from the professors. Most of the first years looked around them confused, before focusing on the hat like the rest of the hall. In fact, from his position, he could see a bead of sweat running down the side of a dirty red-headed boys face as he gulped nervously - just what exactly did he expect the hat to do?

Apparently anything other than what it did, when the hat's brim opened and it began to a rhyming verse, the boy jumped nearly a foot and his small yelp turned several heads, giving him confused looks. Harry could've sworn he heard him whimper, "Where's the troll?" but put it from his mind, turning his attention back to the lyrical hat.

Listening to the lyrics, Harry summarised the witty ditty briefly: the Sorting Hat would look inside your mind and decide which house's characteristics are most prominant in you. Simple really, if you didn't mind an animate hat peering through your mind.

However McGonagall had begun to call names, so he allowed his mind to wander, only paying attention as the name "Malfoy, Draco" was called, followed by "Nott, Theodore", both of whom went to Slytherin with hardly any consideration from the Sorting Hat - or none in Draco's case, as the hat barely touched his finely styled hair.

He waited indifferently, as three 'P's were called before his name was announces. As on his entrance to the hall, a harsh silence struck the hall, allowing the echo of his cane to permeate before it was covered by raucous whispers, sounding like a hive of bees that had been aggravated.

"Potter. Did she say Potter?"

"As in Harry Potter?"

"_The _Harry Potter?"

"But he looks like a pure-blood!"

"Why's he wearing a patch on his eye?"

"Do you think he would go out with me?"

He took his seat at the front of the hall, glaring out at the presumptuous students trying to get a better look at him.

However just as the hat's voice intruded in his head for the first time - 'I don't think I need to ponder over you too much, Mr Potter' - a sharp pain filled his head, starting at the top of his lightening bolt scar and travelling down into his eye socket. Harry clenched his hands in his school trousers to prevent any emotion showing on his face.

The hat continued, not noticing or acknowledging his lack of attention, he wasn't sure which, saying, 'It's obvious where you belong... RAVENCLAW!'

He gasped, his body moving automatically to take him to the very end of the cheering table, ignoring the enthusiastic welcomes from his housemates as he reached a hand up to his patch, two fingers slipping under and coming back to reveal a smear of blood. He turned to look at the head table for, as the searing pain ran through his scar, he had lost concentration and focused on what his right eye was seeing, and it was looking right at him.

* * *

I'm rather pleased with this one, hopefully everyone else will like it too ^^

It's really strange publishing chapters when you've already got the next one or two written, I keep on thinking I'm at different points that I am - bizarre!

The cane was completely unnecessary to the story - unless something comes up later - but the anime character I'm basing harry on in this fic always has one, so Harry gets one. I've had one guess at who the character is, it was a very good guess, with many similarities, but not quite right. The link below is the cane I'm basing Harry's on, though a panther not a cougar, and posed differently, but doesn't matter that much, just to give you an idea (make sure to remove the spaces ^^)

http:/ www. designerwalkingcane .com/Walking StickSwordCanes_ 132 . htm

Are people getting the chapter titles? If not, never mind, it's just a fun little thing I enjoy doing to give a small hint to the coming chapter!


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: if I owned HP, then I would use the money to try and buy the rights to Glee. As of this moment, I own neither, however there is time yet.

* * *

Chapter Six - Bird's Eye View

Harry hardly slept his first night in the Ravenclaw dormitories. Not for any sentimental reasons, like feeling homesick. No, his mind just could not stop replaying that image over and over again. He supposed that might be natural, not many people see the backs of their own heads. It had taken him about two minutes to figure out who's eyes he was seeing through, as the man had twisted to face the headmaster as he gave a welcoming speech, displaying the man's sour neighbour glaring darkly down at the students, though Harry felt his gaze resting on him more frequently than normal. He gave no indication that he realised anything was wrong with either of the two men listing monotonously to Dumbledore speak before allowing them to begin the meal.

He moved with the rest of them, taking portions of the food before him and then allowing the glorious tastes to fill his mouth as he waited for the rest of the table to settle into casual conversation. When everyone seemed content with the food before them, he turned to one of the older students sitting diagonally opposite him.

"Excuse me, who are the two teachers on Dumbledore's right?" he asked, his voice as detached as ever.

The third year was more than happy to answer though, and quickly glanced at who he was talking about, "The black haired one who looks like he would rather take his fork to his own eyeballs is Snape, he's head of Slytherin and the Potion Master. The other one's Professor Quirrel. He was the Muggle Studies Professor two years back but took a break last year and travelled around to places like Albania. He's the Defense Professor this year."

Harry nodded and turned back to his plate, ignoring the boy who continued to stare at him for another minute before reluctantly returning to his yearmates conversation. And since then Harry's brain had been on overdrive trying to explain how such a thing was possible. 'Magic' his mind provided arrogantly and he scoffed. He needed to understand more than that, needed to know why, what had been all manner of small creatures for almost a decade, suddenly turned into a man who had been teaching at his new school for most of that period!

Not only that, but there was Dumbledore's warning of the third floor corridor. What sort of school would warn students again certain areas, on pain of death? Particularly when the school itself had uncontrollable moving staircases. He was burning with curiousity about what could possibly be enough to put the student's lifes at risk, but he had to be careful about it. No doubt, with Dumbledore giving such a grave warning, all the staff would be on lookout duty for any students getting over-ambitious about their established territory.

One of his last thoughts before sleep finally overtook him, was that he didn't like the amount he didn't know, not at all. As he had always believed, knowledge is power, and he was sadly lacking the knowledge he needed. More determined than ever, his consciousness shut down, leaving him to a dreamless sleep.

* * *

It was such an instinctual part of him now that, no matter how few hours sleep he received, he would be up by seven o'clock, ready to absorb any knowledge he could. He wasn't surprised to find the common room empty when he walked through it, many of the students no doubt sleeping as late as possible before their first class - it was a cruel thing to start the school year on a monday. When he reached the Great Hall, having hesitated at some crosses in his path, there was a thin scattering of people spread out across the hall, though very few situated at the Gryffindor table. The majority of the students were casually chatting with a neighbour, though he could see two people bent over parchment, scribbling furiously, occasionally glancing at the head table in the most blatent attempt at subtlety Harry had ever seen.

Harry took one of his extra-curricula books from his bag as he sat, pulling some cereal towards him. He ignore the people entering the hall the later it got, particularly as the more boisterous students made an appearance. Finally Professor Flitwick began to make his way along the table, handing out schedules and catching up with some of the older students whilst welcoming the new ones.

"I must say, I didn't expect to see you in my house, Mr Potter. All the staff were dead set on you going to Gryffindor like your parents," he announced, ever cheery.

"I've never known my parents sir, so I find they've had a relatively small effect on my life," he replied honestly.

The small professor stuttered for a moment, stumbling over his words before trying again clearly, "Now Mr Potter, I don't think you should say things like that. Your parents loved you very much and gave their lives to protect you!"

Harry stared at the man, contemplating him for several moments, it seems like he had known his parents before their deaths from his quick defence. "I don't doubt that they loved me dearly, however for many years it was my belief they'd died whilst drink driving, something my aunt liked to spread around before I was removed from her custody. At this point in my life, I don't see any benefit with furthering my bonds with my dead parents, surely you don't want to cause me to grieve more over their deaths?" he asked, backing Flitwick into a corner.

The little professor bumbled his words again, reassuring Harry that, of course he wouldn't want to reopen that wound, and if he would ever like to talk about any of it, then his door was always open. Harry held back the sneer, the man didn't know that he had never grieved his parents death, nor did he miss them, how could you miss something you've never had? For many years when he was younger, they had been a fantasy, something he had always wanted but would never possess but he had eventually grown out of that and accepted that reality was what he had, nothing else. He had grown up a lot at the orphanage, so much so that he was almost thankful for his stay there, especially after coming in contact with children his own age that had grown up with loving parents. They was not something he would have liked to have become. He could stand Nott and Malfoy, they seemed more aware of the harshness of life. He had heard both their parents were alleged Death Eaters, though had talked their way out of imprisonment in Azkaban, the wizarding jail like true Slytherins. For some reason people seemed to think Harry should be bothered by this.

His attention was drawn back to Flitwick as he handed him his schedule before peering at the book in front of him.

"Is that one of your school books? It's good to see you taking an interest in your studies, before they've even begun!" he squeeked happily.

"No sir, I purchased several extra books to supplement my classwork and to help me fill the gaps in my upbringing, being raised by muggles puts me at a great disadvantage."

Flitwick frowned, his eyes looking left and right quickly before settling back on Harry, "I can understand your concern Harry, but maybe if you keep that sort of thought to yourself... people wouldn't like to hear you of all people making comments like that..."

Harry shrugged, showing his lack of concern, "It wasn't meant as a derogitory comment, sir, simply to say that those children raised in the wizarding world are much more exposed to the reality of magic, and thus their mentallity will give them a greater chance at success. If you had a wizard raised in the wizarding world, and one brought up by muggles, each with the same power, it's more probable the wizard-raised wizard would be able to perform the spells, as he has no problem with the concept of it being true, whereas the muggle-raised wizard will always have doubts for a length of time before they become accustomed to the world. It's not prejudice, simply psychoanalysis of human nature."

Flitwick looked floored for several seconds before smiling brightly at Harry, "Amazing Harry! I'm sure, with your attitude and mature outlook you'll be a great asset to Ravenclaw. That was muggle psychology you were using then, wasn't it?"

Harry nodded, not giving a verbal response in the hopes Flitwick would move along the table with the rest of the timetables, people were already beginning to glance their way.

Thankfully he took the hint and, with one last cheery smile, continued down the table just as several first year Gryffindor boys stumbled into the room, looking relieved to have found it. He sneered slightly at themas they loudly converged on the end of their table. Taking his bag, his book still in one hand, he stalked out of the Great Hall, it wouldn't be a bad idea for him to head to his first class now: with not knowing the locations of his classes, and the unhelpful moving staircases, he would no doubt take an extra five minutes or so to find his class. And if he was early, well, all the more time to persue Gamp's Law of Elemental Transfiguration.

* * *

Harry's first day of classes had been extremely under-stimulating. With the extra time he had before class, he had managed to finish the introduction and explanation of Gamp's First Law. At that point he had been forced to put his book away as the rest of the class began to filter in and suddenly he had found himself surrounded by eager first years. That wouldn't have annoyed him in the least, if they had been eager about the Charm's class, rather than himself. It was as if they had all suddenly caught onto his presence, and each was determined to be: the one sitting next to him; the one who said good morning first; the ones to make him laugh... And none seemed to even notice he didn't care for their antics. He supposed, the previous day they had been absolutely petrified in their new surroundings and had stuck close to those they met on the train: now it seemed they felt more than secure enough to venture meeting other people, most particularly himself. He ended up seated next to a blond Hufflepuff, who offered his hand with a pompous smirk, "Zacharias Smith."

He took the hand, his face devoid of any positive emotion, and intoned dully, "pleasure," though he was sure Smith noticed he felt it was anything but, if his put out expression was any indication.

His first lesson was, to him, a pointless waste of an hour. His head of house took the time to explain what a charm was, something he felt that anyone who didn't know should have been forced to find out for themselves, and then go through what the course itself would involve. He was most unpleased to find that, for several weeks they would be working on wand movement and proper vocalisation. And, to top it off, if they managed to stay on track, they may get to try the levitation charm, Wingardium Leviosa, just before Halloween. Several weeks away.

He had left the room with a strong feeling of disappointment, and, ignoring the many students clamouring for his attention, or whispering about him as he passed, he headed down to the greenhouse for, what he hoped would be, a more interesting lesson in herbology.

* * *

Not sure I like the psychoanalysis part, it's way too much for Harry to say really, but I feel he would act differently with the teachers and be slightly more forthcoming, though only to a degree. I just think this was a bit too forthcoming.

It would be great if people could let me know if I ever get close to falling into any cliches, or if my whole fic is comprised of them. I enjoy reading cliche'd fics sometimes, but want to avoid this becoming one as much as possible ^^


	7. Chapter 7

Semi-important note at the end of the chapter.

Many people have been saying they can't wait to see harry in a certain class or other, however it will be a few chapters till you see him in any particular class in detail, in fact it's Chapter Ten. Just so people don't think it's not going to happen because it hasn't straight away.

Disclaimer: If I owned the rights to HP, there would have been warnings in the books, informing the readers that it is not acceptable to 1) keep a child under the stairs and 2) keep an owl in a tiny cage. There seems to be some people in the world who can't understand those simple concepts.

* * *

Chapter Seven - Seeing Eye to Eye

It wasn't until the end of his first week that anything of interest truly happened to Harry. Though no class had been quite as mind numbing as the first Charms lesson, each of the classes was starting out with very much the most basic of basics: transforming a match into a needle (with bonus points for shininess); learning how to protect yourself from angry owls in defence; making a potion composed ninety-five percent of water; learning of the best soil composition for magical flora... He took to practising spells outside of class, progressing through the spell books with fervor. He could admit the highlight of his week till that point had been Professor Snape's blatant hatred of him, and the ensuing verbal battle between the two, the thought still brought a smile to his face, only in private of course, and that was a hard thing to do.

That morning his attention had been drawn from his book when a barn owl scrambled to land in a clear space by his plate. Seeing it wobble on the spoon in its way, he offered it his arm which the bird hopped onto appreciatively. Taking the thin scroll it offered, he unravelled the string holding it closed and read over the short note. His attention changed focus, from his left eye to the right, and he could see Dumbledore watching him intently through Quirrel's eyes. All week he had been paying as close attention to what the other was doing and, so far, there was nothing unusual apart from his careful observations of Dumbledore. He had been several times more focused that Tuesday during breakfast after reading the Daily Prophet. Harry could understand his nerves after seeing the article about the Gringott's break in: he had seen the wizard break into an empty vault that night when he first found his eye linked him to another wizard. What confused him was why he seemed overly cautious around Dumbledore. He was a powerful wizard, Harry could sense that more easily than ever, but Dumbledore would have no reason to suspect him, surely, otherwise he wouldn't be in the man's employment. The only other reason Harry could theorise was that Dumbledore was involved with whatever it was Quirrel was after.

And so, since the start of the week he had been practising focusing using both his eyes at once. It had also prompted Harry to wonder why it was he could hear all that Quirrel did too, making him assume their link must be more than just through the eyes, maybe some sort of blood link? He would have to investigate the different types of bonds possible between two people, though with his record, the one they shared was more than likely completely unique. However it did have the benefit of, not only allowing him to spy on the teacher's moves, but also learn advanced defence against the dark arts lessons whilst he was bored in his own.

Turning his attention back to the note, he folded it and tucked it into his robes, not bothering to glance up at Dumbledore. So the headmaster was finally making his move: Harry was surprised he had waited so long, especially given his first encounter with Hagrid. Though Dumbledore was playing it as an informal chat, and there would be no need to rush such a thing, thus it could wait until his free afternoon that day.

The morning passed slowly after that. He had asked if he could speak privately with Professor Flitwick during their lesson that day - examining cases of mispronunciation - and had agreed to meet him the following afternoon in his office.

The other classes had passed with equal tedium during which the only time his brain actually became engaged in the lessons was during Snape's usual attempt at catching him off guard. He would admit the questions being asked were getting progressively more difficult and soon he may have to put aside the Charms book he was part-way through to advance his potions knowledge enough to keep up. However the progressively worse aggravation the elder man was displaying kept him from losing all hope of an engaging class.

* * *

He passed lunch with his head in a book, ignoring the other students who had finally seemed to accept that he didn't desire their company and left him to his reading. Not having his meeting with Dumbledore until three, he headed to the library, nodding a hello to Madam Pince who gave him a very tight smile. He had managed to charm her on his first visit, deciding she would be worth the effort in the long run. He spent nearly two hours in the quiet rooms, picking out several potions books before taking a table for himself and taking notes on a fresh sheet of parchment. When the time came to leave for his meeting, he checked the books out with Madam Pince and, with his most polite voice, quietly requested she cast a lightening charm on them for him. She instantly gushed and Harry ducked his head to hide his wicked smirk. It was too easy!

Reading the scroll over once more, Harry followed the directions listed and soon found himself before an ugly, stone gargoyle on the second floor. "Sherbet Lemons," he intoned, keeping the distaste from his voice. He took the stairs up sedately, knowing Dumbledore was aware of his approach by both the magic, he assumed it was warding magic, flowing over him and the click of his cane on the stone slabs. This was confirmed as Dumbledore's voice carried through the door, summoning him in as his knuckles paused just before the wood.

The headmaster was sat behind his desk when he entered, rolling a scroll and placing it into one of the draws before smiling benignly at him as he approached. "Please, take a seat Harry."

He did as indicated, tensing at the over-familiar use of his first name: he had never talked to the man before and he was already addressing him with his given name. The headmaster gave no indication he noticed Harry's stiffening, though they both knew he had.

Harry waited for him to begin his reason for the meeting, declining the lemon drop the man offered.

"How have your first week of classes been? Have you enjoyed your lessons so far?" he asked, looking at him over the top of his half moon spectacles.

"The classes have been at a level appropriate for first years. And many of the teachers have been more than inclined to assist me where they can."

Dumbledore smiled, his eyes twinkling at Harry's non-answer.

"And are you making many friends with your classmates?"

Harry didn't show his frustration at being questioned on subjects the headmaster already knew the answer to. "I have all the companions I could need." It was a declaration of self-dependence.

The smile slipped from the old man's face and, what many people would have called a concerned frown took it's place - Harry called it a mask. "You seem to be pushing many of your classmates away, I don't think it's healthy for a young man such as yourself to isolate himself completely with books."

Harry didn't mask the narrowing of his eyes, "Is that what this meeting is about sir? To try and prompt me to form friendships with my housemates? I'm afraid that my life thus far has not inclined me towards any form of companionship sir. The children I grew up with at the orphanage were rather... opinionated about my unusual looks. It didn't lead to lifelong friends. Please forgive me if I ask you don't blame me for not wishing to form friendships anymore."

Dumbledore's eyes suddenly became intent, and Harry could see he was finally getting to his main reason for bringing him to his office that day. "And, who would you blame Harry?"

He resisted the urge to roll his eyes, so this was all about his conversations with Hagrid. "In a direct manner, I would assign the blame to the children at the orphanage and my loving Aunt."

"And in an indirect manner?" Dumbledore pushed.

"I would blame yourself and Hagrid, for leaving me on my relatives front door step without proper medical attention," he stated, not backing down from the headmaster's questioning.

He was surprised when Dumbledore dropped his masks, sitting back in his chair with a sigh, "As I thought. If you would allow me to explain my actions Harry?"

Harry wanted to say no. He didn't care for what Dumbledore might tell him, he would always place the blame on his shoulders. Instead he nodded, as was expected.

"Firstly, that night when I had Hagrid bring you from your home, none of us had any idea the scar extended so far, maybe if we had been slightly more observant," Harry snorted. "However at the time it was believed it was only at the top right of your forehead, the extension right down to your eye must have been much fainter at the time. Secondly, though you had just defeated Lord Voldemort, many of his followers were still at large and greatly incensed by your defeat of their lord. Any of them would have been a great risk to you if they had managed to find you, it was of great importance that you be brought to your aunt's house for protection immediately. I didn't expect that Petunia would neglect you enough to cause you to be removed from their care." He paused, as if to show he greatly regretted his oversight. "And finally, I hate to have to tell you this at such a young age, but you are much more mature than your years, and I think I can trust you with this information: your scar is a cursed one Harry, and it directly links you to Voldemort himself."

Harry couldn't prevent the choking cough he gave from what Dumbledore had said but he continued after ensuring he wasn't going to continue choking. "I'm afraid that even with medical attention at the time, there would've been nothing that could be done. It cannot be healed until Voldemort is dead, and even then the possibility remains it will not accept the healing magic."

Harry looked at him, with fake confusion, "But I thought Voldemort was dead sir? Everyone says I killed him that night."

The man sighed, shaking his head wearily, "I'm afraid it is my opinion, and I am usually correct, that Voldemort was merely delayed, forced out of his body, on that Halloween night, he will be doing all he can to return and exact his revenge."

Harry bowed his head, taking in all that Dumbledore had revealed to him, though not what he thought he had told him, however Dumbledore cut him out of his thoughts, his expression apologetic. "I'm sorry to have to have told you all of this Harry, I would have much rather waited several years first."

He nodded, before opening his mouth, making a show of hesitating then closing it again.

Dumbledore gave him an amused smile, "yes Harry?"

He forced a faint blush and ignored the headmaster's chuckle, knowing his question would easily stop his humour. "If there were Death Eaters - that's the name of his followers isn't it? - that were out for my blood that night, why did you have Hagrid bring me from my parents' house sir? If we had been attacked, he wouldn't have been able to defend the two of us..."

As predicted Dumbledore frowned, "I would trust Hagrid with my life Harry, and he was in no way responsible for the snapping of his wand during his schooling, he was innocent."

Harry didn't comment, not knowing the specifics of Hagrid's expulsion from the school, and not agreeing with the first part of his statement.

They both sat in silence for several moments as Harry waited to see if Dumbledore would say anything else. When he didn't speak again, Harry reached for his bag, "If that was all sir, I have several books I would like to get started on this weekend," he trailed off, the question clear.

"Yes, of course Harry. Do try and spend more time with your peers as well though, school isn't only for learning, it's also a good place to make some lasting friendships."

Harry paused at the door and looked back at Dumbledore, obviously thinking before giving the man a smile, "Of course sir, I'll ask Theo and Draco tomorrow if they want to work on our homework together."

He left before Dumbledore could make any comment.

* * *

He went straight to his dorm room for the two hours before dinner, pulling the curtains around his bed and placing his bag beside him as he lay back to think over the meeting.

Firstly, and perhaps the more important of what he had gleaned from the discussion, was that his scar linked him to Voldemort himself, and that meant, much to Harry's amusement, that Voldemort was in the school, _teaching_. He pulled his wand from his pocket and flicked it muttering the incantation for a silencing ward he had read about, surprised when he felt the ward establish itself around his bed. That done, he placed his wand aside and lay back before letting out an honest to god laugh. He didn't know the specifics of how Quirrel and Voldemort were the same person - was it some form of illusion, or was he sharing the body in some manner? - but the thought that Dumbledore had actually hired Voldemort to teach them to defend themselves against the Dark Arts was more than he could take. For several minutes he put off his other thought and just chuckled to himself until it was out of his system: trying to hold it in until he was safely ensconced in his room had taken all his will power. When he finally calmed down, he turned his thoughts to the other information he had extracted from Dumbledore's words, and it just served to fuel his hatred more.

Dumbledore didn't seem to have noticed but he had slipped up during their meeting. He had said 'neglect you enough' rather than 'neglect you' in relation to the Dursley's abuse - he had known when placing Harry with the Dursley's that he would never have a pleasant life there. And he had no problem with that.

* * *

Note, as seen from this chapter, Harry isn't going to be a master manipulator instantly. I don't believe any eleven year olds could manipulate Dumbledore, so instead he simply masks the majority of his feelings, though will let them be known if questioned directly as shown in Dumbledore's office.

For some reason, about a third of the way through this chapter it became a real struggle to write. Fortunately once I reached the meeting it became much easier, and I was able to make a decent chapter, and a better length that normal. ^^

Hope you liked their conversation as much as I enjoyed writing it!


	8. Chapter 8

Disclaimer: If I owned HP, I would make sure everyone knew about it.

Okay, so whilst writing this chapter I've just published a chapter - I think it was five - taking me passed the 10000 words mark, this is getting serious now. Put on the serious face ^^ I have a very bad serious face.

Sorry, slightly babbling, but more thanks to everyone who's reviewing, you're absolutely amazing!

* * *

Chapter Eight - Eye on the Prize

When he reached the Great Hall for breakfast the next day, Harry was unsurprised to see only four other students there, already consuming their breakfast. The majority of the school was taking the opportunity to sleep in after their first week of classes.

He managed to keep his face blank as he took a seat at the end of the Ravenclaw table, taking a book and a portion of grapefruit. After his meeting with Dumbledore yesterday he had barely managed to keep his expression straight for the rest of the night, gaining him many wary looks when his face would suddenly break out into a slightly twisted grin. He was almost embarrassed by his uncharacteristic display of emotions, yet thinking on the revelations now, it was nearly as much of a struggle to keep his face straight as it was then.

So he kept his face entrenched in his book, smothering the grins that wanted to surface. That day he had his meeting with his head of house at eleven, then he had decided to go ahead with meeting up with Nott and Malfoy, if only to get Dumbledore off his back whilst going against what he had intended in any miniscule way - though he was beginning to think that Dumbledore may be more bemused by his 'friendship' with the Slytherins, than disapproving.

After heading to the owlery to see Hedwig and give her a note for Nott, he headed to common room where he took a seat in the corner and continued with his books, ignoring the glances he received from his housemates. By now they had begun to pick up on his reclusive tendencies and that he was always found with a book in hand - even to the Ravenclaws this was an extreme and most of them had taken to shooting him apprehensive glances. Growing in frequency as the majority of the house emerged for the day. He was more than happy to leave to speak with Flitwick, their glances beginning to grate on his thin nerves, and he decided to do his studying in the library from then on, at least he knew Madam Pince would leave him be.

* * *

Professor Flitwick was marking the first homework assignments for one of the older classes at his desk when he arrived. He looked up when Harry knocked on his door and offered him a wide smile.

"Mr Potter, right on time. Do come in and take a seat while I clean up this mess," he indicated the pile of papers, though Harry wasn't sure if he was meaning the piles of them or the content.

With a flick of his wand, the parchment shuffled itself into a single, neat pile and shifted onto one of his shelves. "Now, what can I do for you today Mr Potter, I do hope you're not concerned about your classwork, it's been more than acceptable, even if sometimes you seem a bit... lax."

Harry smiled rather self-depreciating, "I'm afraid it is about classwork sir, however possibly not what you're thinking." He paused, making sure to come across as under-confident until Flitwick motioned with his hand for him to continue.

"I'm completely unchallenged by any of the courses sir. I- I finished the course books before arriving and have been reading extra books to supplement the course, but I don't know if I could stand a whole year without being taught anything unless I read it myself, having to waste hours in classes each day being taught what I already know! It's just maddening!" He finished with a sincere look at his professor, who seemed rather startled at his passionate explanation.

Clearing his throat, he looked at the boy, "What do you want me to do Harry?" the use of his first name didn't go unnoticed and he mentally smirked, "It's only just the end of the first week of term, none of the teachers would be able to vouch for what you say yet."

Harry stared at him until the small man looked into his eye, making sure to push all his emotions into the gaze. "Please, hear me out when I say this sir, but I want to move up a year."

As predicted Professor Flitwick instantly began to splutter, patting his chest several times until he was able to take a clear breath again.

"Harry - do you... it's not even..." he took another steady breath, "I think you should maybe give your classes a bit longer before deciding they aren't hard enough for you, there are some people that can't grasp concepts as quickly as you can."

Harry nodded, conceding that fact - he knew people weren't as good as him, never mind if he sounded conceited. "Sir, the very start of term is the best time for someone to progress a grade: the classes have barely started so it would take only a day or so for me to catch up on the work they're doing. I'm willing to sit any tests to prove I'm ready for the next years course if the professors want to test me. And I've already looked at the second year Ravenclaw's timetables incase I failed on one class and had to stay in first year for it - the only one which would cause problems with timetabling would be Charms, and I'm _more_than confident I can perform in your subject! The same with Transfigurations and Defence."

"And why are you so confident in those three classes particularly?" Flitwick asked, seemingly not convinced.

"Well, after seeing you perform several spells, and watching the magic work, it's easy to understand the way to manipulate your magic and I grasped the spells easily, even ones you haven't performed because i know the 'trick', so to say, on how my magic should move for Charms. The same with Transfiguration and Defence, they're all primarily magic manipulation exercises, and once you know the general movement for each branch of magic, it's easier - like learning the general rules for hydrocarbons. Not that I don't have to study to learn it all, there's still much for me to learn."

He wasn't sure Flitwick understood the chemistry part, but that wasn't important, as his jaw was dropped and he was staring at Harry in a new light, "You can see magic?"

Harry gave him a confused look, "Well, I wouldn't say 'see' so much as feel... can't you?"

Flitwick gave a groan, placing his face in his hands.

Harry had been taken off guard for the second time in as many days and he didn't like it. He had grown up with muggle children, knowing there was something different about himself, yet not what, so when he was told he was a wizard, and learned that what he could sense coming from Hagrid was magic, well, he hadn't even considered that no one else could feel it as well. If he had known he wouldn't have revealed it so readily, and it would also help him understand why his classmates took so long to grasp the spells they were learning. However it had been beneficial in convincing Professor Flitwick to talk to the other professors about him progressing a grade, that and him willingly performing charms from the first year - and some from second - on Flitwick's demand. Harry was glad he wasn't the only one in the room caught off guard, though for different reasons, as the Charm's professor watched the colour-changing quill race an ink bottle around his desk.

Finally he had laughed at the scene, muttering "preposterous!" under his breath before giving Harry a wide smile and declaring he would see what he could do.

* * *

The meeting had lasted half an hour in total so, instead of heading to the common room or library - the latter was more likely - he headed down to the great hall to take an early lunch and wait to see if Nott had received his note and was free. As soon as he sat at his table, pulling food towards him, Hedwig swooped down from where she'd evidently been waiting for him in the rafters. He ignored the 'oooh's and 'ahhh's from several giggling girls the year above him further down the table, offering his owl some ham after she gave him the note attached to her leg.

"Thanks girl," she hooted pleasantly before taking off, a large piece of ham clutched in her beak.

He smiled ruefully after her, before turning back to read the note.

* * *

He found Theo and Draco - they insisted on first names - to be decent company. They didn't push him into talking as they studied, and were quiet enough for him to take in what he was reading whilst keeping an ear on what they said. The two of them sat completing the homework they'd been set on Friday, which Harry had completed after meeting with Dumbledore the previous day. Occasionally they questioned something to do with the subject matter and Harry would offer assistance. Eventually, after several glances at him, Draco asked quietly, "What's that you're reading? It's not one of the set books."

Harry looked at him over the top of the pages, "It's a book on potions, I've borrowed it from the library for extra reading," he said, dismissively.

The two Slytherin's shared a look, "You always seem to be reading, every time you're in the Great Hall for meals, you have a book out, and I've heard Granger complaining about you - not that anyone listened," Draco added with a smirk.

Harry refrained from rolling his eyes at the platinum blond, he agreed with him in regards to Granger, but he wondered how he'd react knowing Harry had grown up surrounded by muggles - and that his experience hadn't been positive.

Instead he gave Draco a contemplative look, before sitting the book down. "To me, knowledge is power. There is nothing in life that can't be accomplished if you have the correct information to get you there."

Draco sat back, giving a smirk, "Well that's great. Can you use all that knowledge to tell me the main properties that distinguish the Devil's Snare from a Flitterbloom?"

Harry sighed but as Theo leaned forwards to take note as well, he knew that they were two more people he could come to rely on. That and he found their attempts at subtlety and manipulation rather... endearing.

That night as he went to bed early he ended up staring at the piece of parchment he'd used a sticking charm to adhere to the top of bed before his focus shifted to Quirrel-mode, as he had started referring to it. Once more he read the words visible above him: "Aim - graduate Hogwarts in five years."

'Let's see what the staff think about that...' he thought and turned his attention to the staff meeting occurring at that moment.

* * *

Question - is the ceiling of the great hall not kind of dangerous for owls? they'd probably end up trying to fly out of it and giving themselves a concussion... the more I think about the HP books, the more I think animal and child protection societies should have taken a firmer stand on the wizarding community!

I feel the last paragraphs to this were rather messy, though no matter what they wouldn't fit nicely together.

The magic sensing thing isn't going to be a main plot point, just in case people were going to ask.


	9. Chapter 9

Sorry this chapter is kinda short, and I don't really like it, but sometimes you just can't like everything.

IMPORTANT NOTE AT THE END!

Also there will be no updates until possibly tuesday, as I'm staying somewhere with no access to a computer. Hopefully this will give me time to at least finish chapter 11, which has been killing me, it just won't be written! It's the first time a chapter has taken more than a day's work!

Disclaimer: If I owned Harry Potter, I could buy all the doujinshi I wished. As I don't, I cry over the prices...

* * *

Chapter Nine - The Public Eye

On the fourth floor, behind a door disguised by a tapestry that would only appear if you were programmed into it's wards, the staff of Hogwarts gathered for their first new semester staff meeting. They would meet that night each new year to discuss their classes, most specifically the new first years and the N.E.W.T. classes. At that moment in time when Harry began watching the room through Quirrell's eyes, the teachers were chatting amicably - with the exception of Snape - waiting for the last few professors to arrive and take their seats. Quirrell was talking to a woman he didn't recognise apart from noticing her at meals occasionally. Her hair was frizzy and eyes magnified many times over by thick lenses, and she was currently informing Quirrell of an evil spirit hanging over him. Harry snorted at hearing that as he 'tuned in' to Quirrell's sight.

For several more minutes as the staff appeared one by one Quirrell tried to send the woman to speak with other people, however she continued to predict his gruesome future, only relenting when, much to Quirrell's horrified relief and Harry's bemusement, Dumbledore sat down at the head of the table.

"Thank you all for coming tonight, I hope your first week's with the students haven't been too trying." He paused as there were several muttered complaints before smiling widely and continuing, "Shall we get started with the first subject?"

He nodded to McGonagall who stood from her seat with a sheet of parchment in hand. "From the group of forty two, twelve pupils went to Gryffindor, ten to Hufflepuff, eleven to Ravenclaw and nine to Slytherin. An even enough distribution, if slightly away from Slytherin as has been the trend for the past few years..." She placed the parchment down and continued. "There are only three students amongst the first years in my house whom concern me: Neville Longbottom; Hermione Granger and Ronald Weasley. Mr Longbottom seems to possess no self-esteem, and I'm rather certain his grandmother shattered his metaphorical backbone several years ago," her voice laced with contempt and her eyes narrowing distastefully before moving on. "Miss Granger proved herself rather talented in theoretical knowledge, but her attitude to her work and her peers has already segregated her and no doubt soon she'll begin to feel the pressure that isolation causes. Mr Weasley however, is completely apathetic to his work and rude to other students. He was also the only first year that managed to arrive to my first lessons fifteen minutes late."

She sat down signalling she was finished with her debriefing, and Harry nearly groaned when he noticed Snape standing and beginning the same process, hopefully this wouldn't last too long. Tuning the potion master out as Quirrel glanced around the table, he was pleased to see Flitwick next out of the heads of houses. He could see many of the other teachers around the table were similarly lacking attention as Snape dragged on tonelessly.

Finally he too retook his seat, and Flitwick turned to climb onto his chair, giving himself a small amount of extra height. Harry savored the frustrated look on Snape's face when everyone turned back to attention as the small professor took his stand.

"My Ravenclaws are managing well. Lisa Turpin had a few troubles adjusting to being away from home, but Miss Clearwater spent some time with her and she says she's feeling much better now. Kevin Entwhistle was stuck outside of the common room for an hour on Wednesday, but other than embarrassment was fine for it." Harry was holding back fits of laughter at the frustrated looks of impatience on the rest of the teacher's faces as he put off mentioning him till the end and he could tell that Flitwick was greatly enjoying the power he held over the others.

"Miss Patil and Miss MacDougal had a small fight over beds which the prefects sorted out, and finally Mr Potter has asked to progress a year."

Harry couldn't stop the cackle that he let out mentally at the reactions the professors gave. After several seconds they all burst into inane chatter, only quieting down once Dumbledore shot several sparks from the tip of his wand. Throughout all this Harry could see Flitwick standing on his chair, relishing in the trouble he had caused: Harry would never have thought it of the minute man.

Once the room was silence again, Dumbledore turned to the Charms professor, who adopted a business look, and questioned, "When did Harry mention this?"

"He came to see me in my office today and informed me he was completely uninterested in any class and is already performing at much higher levels. He wants to be tested for admission to second year."

Flitwick finished, waiting for the headmaster's response, however it was Snape that spoke first. "And, surely you told him no, Filius. Why even pander to his foolishness?"

Flitwick bristled, no doubt taking personally the doubt to his assessment of the situation, "Well, as he managed to practically demonstrate the whole of the first year charms course, and a fair part of the second, I thought he may have proved reason enough to mention it at his request."

He looked away from Snape in dismissal, ignoring Snape's sneer, and turned back to Dumbledore. "Mr Potter also said that he could 'see' magic Albus. You know someone with a gift like that could easily advance much quicker than any other student! The only thing that worries me is he's completely isolated himself in the house, spending all his time reading..."

Dumbledore smiled, "I spoke to him on the same matter yesterday, he's less prone to making friends, but seems will at least to spend time with Mr's Nott and Malfoy."

Snape snorted again, though Harry wasn't sure this time whether it was chagrin of Dumbledore having taken time to speak to him personally out of all the first years, or the thought that he was spending time with two of his Slytherins.

Dumbledore carried on, ignoring Snape's interuption, "Well Filius, are you completely behind your decision in requesting Mr Potter undergoes testing from the teachers to advance a year?"

Professor Flitwick nodded resolutely, "I am Albus." Harry felt his appreciation of the man rise just slightly.

"Very well, if you would inform him that his request has been accepted on the terms he proves himself capable, and those who teach Mr Potter would arrange a schedule for taking a test each day after his classes."

Harry continued watching for several minutes more before accepting that there would be nothing more of interest he could learn in the meeting and allowing himself to drift off to sleep.

* * *

The next morning Flitwick approached him at breakfast where, once again, there was only a scattering of students. "The teachers have approved your request Harry," he pretended to look pleased, as if he had not already known, "This is your timetable for the week, I would make sure to go over Potions, I would say that Professor Snape isn't going to make it easy on you."

He nodded, taking the parchment offered. "Why does he hate me so much sir? He singles me out every lesson."

The professor stumbled over his words before settling on a sympathetic look and, "I couldn't say Harry."

Harry knew it was meant to sound as if he didn't know, but it was much too obvious for him that information was being withheld from him. He didn't like it much.

* * *

Harry wasn't surprised when the next week passed quickly, and easily. As he had already demonstrated many charms to Professor Flitwick, he had already given Harry permission to enter his second year class. The rest of the classes each took an afternoon after classes had finished to test his abilities. Potions was the last on Friday, was he was given two hours to prepare the forgetfulness potion which he managed with ease. The enjoyable part was having Snape watching his moves for several hours, having to refrain from making snide comments. Overall, he was more than happy with his results.

Harry was surprised not to hear anything on Saturday and ended up spending the day in the library with Draco and Theo as they worked through a defense essay Harry was pleased hadn't been set to his class. According to Draco, who was rather vocal about the subject, when Professor Quirrell had been teaching them the dangers ghosts can pose, a certain Gryffindor - Harry didn't know which - had questioned how a poltergeist was different, and if they could really possess people. And so the whole class had been set two feet of parchment to detail the differences between ghosts and poltergeists.

Draco had been muttering about it for roughly fourty minutes now and Harry found, though it distracted greatly from his reading, he didn't much mind. It worried him how close he was becoming to the Slytherins, they were the closest to his maturity in their year and didn't try overly to gain his attention, just spent some time studying together quietly. And he didn't want their interactions to become more than that.

Not that Draco managed to maintain that maturity all the time, he thought as he threw his text on the desk - Harry was thankful Madam Pince couldn't see that, it would surely lower her opinion of him if he was caught in the company of 'book abusers'.

"This is ridiculous! 'It is also possible for the spirit of a wizard, reduced to such a form by the Dark Arts, to possess hosts. The strength of the wizard will dictate the level of function in the body he is able to possess, as well as the will power of the possessed.' Who would be stupid enough to end up stuck as a spirit?" he laughed, though Theo seemed to notice the shocked expression on Harry's face as everything fell into place after many years.

"Something wrong Harry?" Theo asked casually as Draco turned to look at him too.

He didn't notice the way they both tensed at the wicked grin that stretched across his face. "No, nothing's wrong at all."

* * *

I know the books give a location for a staff room, but I would guess there would be more than one.

Also, some people have been wondering how Dumbledore will react to certain things, or how he'll start working against Harry. However, at this point in time, Harry's independent, not fully dark, and though Dumbledore might not be the happiest with his choice of friends, he isn't working against Harry either, that'll all come later! And Dumbledore isn't really aware of how much Harry hates him.

I worry Harry may be getting slightly unrealistic, but in my defence, I found my first year at high school ridiculously easy (seriously not meaning to brag) and picked up the subjects very quickly. If I had been reading any books aimed at that school year for over a month in the manner Harry is, I would've probably ask to move a head. That's my thinking anyway.  
As I say, I don't really like this chapter, I worry I'm falling into the realm of cliche, but no matter what happens, I will plow ahead!


	10. Chapter 10

Sorry this is a bit late, I was away a day longer than planned, and chapters eleven and twelve are killing me! almost finished twelve though!

Thanks to everyone that's helped push this fic passed, not only 100 reviews, but 10,000 hits! :)

Disclaimer: I don't own. One day I will, on that day I will rewrite every disclaimer to let you all know!

* * *

Chapter Ten - The Evil Eye

Harry might have a bit of an attention problem. He was quite happy staying out of the limelight for the majority of his time, but there were just certain instances that he relished in the attention he received. This was one of them, he thought as he sat reading a potions book whilst waiting for his first, second year potions class to begin. And Snape's obvious distaste was absolutely wonderful.

He had arrived early, as always, and politely questioned where the potions master would like him to sit. Taking the seat at the very front, centre of the room, directly in front of Snape's desk he had continued to read his Potion's text as Snape summoned ingredients from the store room onto his desk. Several minutes later the first students began to arrive, the first one pausing at the door and giving Harry a curious look until Snape snapped at him to take his seat and be quiet. Quickly the rest of the class filled up and Harry was pleased to see it was a Slytherin/Ravenclaw mix. As a large group of Slytherin boys entered, Snape snapped from the front of the class, "Higgins, down the front, you have a new partner." Harry could feel the eyes watching him grow more intense at his words, but he merely stowed his book away into his bag, changing it for the assigned potions text book, which Professor Snape had thrown a copy of at the start of the class until his ordered copy arrived. 'Higgins' took his seat quietly, watching Harry with even more curiosity than the rest of the class. Staring right back at him, Harry acknowledged he was good looking, with blond spiky hair and dark blue eyes with a lithe but toned build. Figuring someone should make a move, Harry offered his hand to the elder boy, "Harry Potter."

For several moments the Slytherin stared at the hand, along with the rest of the class, before Harry raised an eyebrow and he conceded, taking the hand with a polite nod, "Terence Higgins."

Apparently Snape was hoping for an opposite outcome, as the door slammed close with a loud slam at a flick of his wand. "You will all have noticed we have a new member joining our class today. I'm sure Mr Potter would like to have a moment to brag before we begin, however I refuse to favour individual students in my class so we will begin todays potion by turning to page forty two of our books and following the instructions detailed there."

Flicking through his book to the right page, Harry rolled his eyes at the man's theatrics before heading to Snape's desk to grab the correct ingredients.

Barely ten minutes into the potion making, Harry noticed Snape had changed his tactics. Instead of raining questions down on Harry as he worked, which in fact helped illustrate his knowledge, rather than highlight any failings like Snape had originally hoped, he spent most of the sat at his desk directly in front of Harry, watching every move he made. Harry was easily able to shrug off the stare, having been stared at near constantly for over a month now, but it seemed Terence was much less accustomed to the level of death glare currently being directed at their work station.

Eventually, when he noticed Higgins' hand begin to shake slightly whilst adding the powdered asphodel root, he spoke up whilst stirring his potions twenty two times counter-clockwise.

"Am I doing something wrong, sir?"

Harry wasn't surprised when the whole class stopped instantly, turning to look at the exchange between the two.

Snape sneered, "Why would you think that, Mr Potter?"

"You've been watching everything I've done since I began the potion sir. I just worry that you aren't paying enough attention to the rest of the students."

"I think, Mr Potter, that you should focus on your own work, I am more than capable of watching a class whilst making sure you don't make any amateur mistakes - five points for cheek!"

Harry glanced behind him, not at all phased by the dark looks several of the Ravenclaws were giving him, before turning back to Snape whilst removing his ladle from the potion to let it simmer for ten minutes. "Then I'm sure you've noticed, sir, that Miss Edgecombe's potion is turning yellow."

Harry felt the moment the whole class' attention turned from his back, onto the cauldron of the now ashen-faced girl who was staring at the bubbling potion with fear. Snape swept around his desk, quickly grasping something from the girl's table and throwing it into the cauldron, "Now stir it you foolish girl!"

She instantly grasped for the ladle, her whole body trembling from fear as Snape stood over her intently for several moments before turning back to the rest of the class, "All of you get on with your work! Unless you want to receive a zero like Miss Edgecombe." The girl whimpered.

He swept back to the front, stilling directly behind Harry. "And you, Mr Potter. Are you so arrogant that you find it funny to allow another student's potion to reach that point?"

Harry turned to face him, staring directly into his eyes with his one eye completely emotionless, though mocking was hidden directly under that mask. "I was focusing on my own work sir, I was sure you would be paying enough attention to the class to have noticed it. I'm sorry if I was mistaken sir, it won't happen again."

And without another word, he turned back to his potion, leaving Snape to fume behind him before stalking to his desk.

Harry sat down, only having to wait seven more minutes while the potion simmered before bottling a sample for Snape to mark. Beside him he heard Higgins murmur under his breath: "Potter one; Snape zero," and was sure from the dark glare directed at the boy that Snape heard too.

Harry didn't even try to keep the dark smirk off his face.

Even after his comment, Harry was surprised when Higgins clapped him on the back after the door to the potions classroom was firmly closed behind them.

"Well played Potter." And with that he, and the rest of the Slytherins, off to their next class, some of them giving him approving nods.

Harry gave a small smirk of acknowledgement before heading after the rest of the Ravenclaws headed to Charms.

By the end of the day everyone had heard of the incident in potions and Harry found himself the unwilling victim of so many pats on the back that he almost regretted getting one over on the potions master. It was more than made up, however, when Theo and Draco both swept into the library and settled opposite him with eager expressions.

"Harry, Harry, Harry..." Theo tutted, with such theatrics Harry was shocked it wasn't Draco speaking and shaking his head.

"Yes Theodore?" he smirked at the twitch Nott couldn't hide at the use of his full name, giving Draco the chance to speak instead.

"You've been keeping secrets! I'm heartbroken you didn't tell me you've been moved up to second year! That's big news Harry! You have to tell us things like that! I don't like looking stupid when I hear about it from a third year who's asking _me_ if it's true!"

Though Draco was acting upset over the whole thing, Harry could tell he was more excited than anything else.

"And now everyone's talking about how you completely _owned _Snape! Seriously Harry, I don't think anyone's got to him like that in the last - ever!" Theo exclaimed, gaining a disapproving look from Madame Pince.

Harry resigned himself to their chatter and placed his book down. "I must admit, I'm rather shocked at the reactions, I was sure the Slytherin's would loath my existence after putting Snape down like that..."

Draco smirked at him, "He may be our head of house and favour us like nothing else, but if anyone can manage to talk to him like that and come away the victor, then we have to admit that person's damn good, especially as they're not actually in Slytherin. Now, you're not touching that book again until you've given me a proper play-by-play account of what happened!"

Harry sighed, offering the book a longing glance before nodding.

Once he finished he sat back and watched the two boys opposite him. Draco was cackling madly whilst Theo looked contemplative.

Taking the opportunity, he retreated behind his book until one of them ventured to speak again.

It was Theo who spoke first, just as Draco was managing to calm himself down finally. "You'll have to watch yourself around Snape from now on, he'll be out to get one over on you in any way possible, he won't take well to being humiliated like that, especially as none of the staff are likely to let him forget anytime soon."

Harry waved off his concern, making Draco frown.

"You should be a bit more worried Harry, Theo's right. Snape's my godfather so I've known him my whole life: he can hold a grudge for years at a time!"

Harry gave them a blank look before returning to his book, "So can I."

* * *

When Harry finally escaped from Draco and Theo's needling for more gossip on his classes so far – he was almost shocked at how the pure-blooded heirs acted once you got to know them! – he decided to put his books aside for the night, until curfew at least, and took to wandering the castle's many corridors. He had done this several times, each time discovering new features to the school he had missed the last time. Several days ago he had found himself in an unused corridor, leading to the chaotic staircases, and observed their movement, looking for patterns. It had taken him a while, but there were definite sequences of movement, though each was unique to a certain staircase. From these observations, Harry noticed several certain corridors, one of which he had resided in that night, that were only accessable several times in an hour. What had really surprised him was that, even with all these highly inconvenient corridors to reach, the stairs leading to the left hand side of the third floor corridor was perhaps one of the most frequently changing staircase. Harry had frowned at this in confusion at the time, and it still made so little sense, it was almost as if they _wanted_ the students to explore it.

Tonight, he had planned to watch the staircases for only a few minutes, to confirm his theories, however his attention was easily drawn to the same staircase again, most curious of what lay beyond. However as he watched it this time, he noticed the stairs avoided the hallway like a Bowtruckle would a timber factory.

He watched almost transfixed for half an hour, only seeing the connection made to the area of the castle only once.

How could it have changed so much since last Thursday? All the other corridors had remained the same. What had happened since then? Nothing he could think of school-wide. For him, he had moved up a year after talking to Flitwick, and Dumbledore. That must be it, it was entirely reasonable that the headmaster had control of the stairways' movements, but why would he suddenly change it so much? From making it one of the most accessable areas of school, to completely secluded like it should be.

He was so caught in his musing, that Professor Flitwick managed to appear beside him without noticing until he spoke his name, making him turn to stare in shock, one hand reaching for his wand as the slight professor apologized good naturedly;.

"I was just looking for you Mr Potter! I'm rather surprised you aren't in the library with your Slytherin friends!" he spoke somemore, but Harry missed it as he mentally smirked, 'so that's what it was then...'

* * *

I debated for a while on the potions scene, but decided that 1) harry and snape verbally spar in the book, though in this fic harry enjoys it significantly more, and 2) neville manages to blow up several cauldrons, therefor it's entirely plausible someone else would be that bad at potions as well!

Let me know what you think!


	11. Chapter 11

Apologies, shortest chapter yet. More notes at the end apologizing which are important to read before complaining! (though please don't complain!)

Okay, and some people were kinda confused about the last line in the last chapter, I hope this has explained it well enough!

Disclaimer: The rights to HP belong to JKR, alas those are not my initials.

* * *

Chapter Eleven - Eyes Down

Though some people might call him slightly arrogant, Harry knew he was more important than the rest of the kids in his year. Okay, maybe very arrogant, and he was only more important than the rest to certain people, but those certain people most definitely included Dumbledore. Any other first year would've let everyone know the headmaster had called them to his office specifically to find out how they're doing, he was a very important man, after all.

This is why Harry had only the slightest of doubts the reason the staircases had suddenly decided against moving to the one corridor in the school he shouldn't be in was to do with him. It seems after their meeting that Dumbledore had changed his opinion regarding him and Harry had to wonder if it was that he was friends with Slytherins, or the amount of independence, and at first dislike of the headmaster, he showed. Not that his hostility to the man had faded, the old man's excuses merely drove the bitter hate deeper, so it wouldn't be as easily seen, yet it was closer to his heart.

It took him by surprise when they reached Flitwick's office, he had been so caught up in his thoughts he was thankful the professor hadn't spoken to him during their walk, as he would have been completely ignored.

"I would assume," Flitwick began, "given the stories that have circulated and Professor Snape's most sinister mood today since taking a second year potions class, that you've managed in your classes rather well, however if there is anything you were worried about, feel free to share it with me Harry."

Harry closed his eyes for a second, gathering his thoughts. "My day was fine sir, though I believe Professor Snape was wrong to take points from Ravenclaw. Other than that, I had already done the reading for the classes so had no difficulty performing what was asked."

"Ah, exactly another thing I wanted to talk to you about! Madame Pince mentioned that you've taken books out on Care of Magical Creatures, Arithmancy and Ancient Runes. I'm worried that you're going to overload yourself. You're only a first year student Harry, there's no need to push yourself too far to try and prove yourself."

Harry gave a humoured smile, "I'm not pushing myself professor. It's natural for me to spend a lot of my time reading, it's what I've done since I was much younger. I admit I'm reading up on the electives for next year so I don't get too far ahead in the materials for the current subjects, but I _was _wondering if there's anything outside of the curriculum I could do to keep my mind occupied?"

Flitwick raised an eyebrow at him, "Like extra credit?"

Harry ducked his head, "Not quite sir, I was thinking more of something like... duelling. Everyone knows you're a duelling champion after all..." he trailed off, certain his shy act would help his cause.

Flitwick seemed more shocked than anything else, and Harry pressed ahead.

"It's just, Professor Dumbledore called me to his office the other day, and he told me that... Voldemort would be coming back," he ignored the involuntary gasp, "and as I was the one to defeat him the last time, he'll be coming after me for revenge." He looked up into Flitwick's eyes, his visible one burning with desire, "I want to be ready for when that happens sir. It may not be for many years yet, but if I start now I know I'll have as good a chance as I can get at surviving."

Flitwick's eyes instantly became sympathetic, and his voice was full of understanding, "Oh Harry, I'm shocked Dumbledore would tell you something so horrendous when you're still so young. I'll check with Dumbledore first, then I'll let you know when and where we'll have these meetings. However you can't go telling everyone about them, I don't want to get accused of favouritism! And if your classwork starts slipping at all, I'm afraid I'll have to call a halt to them, you understand?"

Harry gave him a beaming smile, cursing when his face hurt from the unusual action, "Of course sir! I won't say a word to anyone! Thank you so much sir, I knew I could rely on you!"

He jumped out of his seat and almost bounced out the door and around the corner of the corridor before settling into a confident walk. 'The night's been rather productive.'

* * *

The next day heralded his first, second year Defence lesson. His exam in Defence had been rather nerve-wracking, even for him, as he knew he was alone with some form of the man who he had defeated as a child and was no doubt out for revenge as Dumbledore had said. However it seemed the Dark Lord was more interested in gaining his body back and keeping a low profile to do so, as he had not made any moves against Harry.

He had been so tempted to reveal that he knew about Voldemort, however thinking rationally, that would most likely cause his life span to be drastically reduced. The man would have no hesitation killing him if he thought Harry could reveal his presence in the school. And whilst Harry would very much like to learn the Dark Arts from the man, at the moment, he doubted he would be willing when there was nothing he gained but increasing the risk of exposure.

So he had held his tongue, and continued to do so. However this was his first Defence lesson since becoming a second year, and he didn't know just yet what they were studying – hopefully it was more informative than the first year classes on possession, though he had mentally laughed at the thought of the Dark Lord teaching them about such.

He took the seat Quirrell directed him to whilst stuttering, beside a Ravenclaw that he didn't know the name of.

"We w-will be c-continuing t-today with the b-b-basic defence sp-spells we read a-about last lesson."

That lesson comprised of practising the disarming curse, and spells to counter it, though as Quirrell pointed out, it was best to just dodge.

As Harry had finally reconditioned himself to using both eyes at once, rather than switching his concentration between the two, he was able to notice just how often Quirrell was actually focused on his throughout the class, even when it seemed he was looking elsewhere. It was most eerie for him when his eyes met Quirrel's, finding himself staring at himself in two different bodies.

As he had managed to pick up the spell on his first attempt, Harry pulled out a book after getting the go ahead for Quirrell, however for once his attention kept on straying due to the constant yelling of spells throughout the class. Irritated, he drew his wand under the table and directed it at Cho Chang, a female Ravenclaw as she prepared to try the spell once more on her partner. He waited until just before she pronounced the spell, and whispered his own incantation under his breath. The spell he cast was a clever, greatly underused spell that relied on the caster managing to use it at the very moment the victim's magic was channelled through their wand. As it struck the person, invisible to the human eye, it caused their magic to release from the wand but not project, causing the spell to turn on its caster. Of course, it wouldn't work for the more high powered spells, as the amount of magic in them simply broke through the spell and continued to the opponent, but for minor to medium powered spells, it was a priceless piece of magic that he had only come across in one of the older books of charms he had borrowed from the library.

As a result, Chang's wand released a red light that surrounded it, before wrenching it from her grip and throwing it across the classroom with a small 'bang' caused by the trapped magic, as she gave a startled yelp.

The class turned to look at her and Quirrell quickly strode over to her, summoning the escaped wand to him. "T-Try it again, M-Miss Chang."

This time Harry let her do it without any interference and she managed the spell fine – though it missed Marietta by a good metre. Quirrell nodded and moved away as the rest of the students turned back to their own practise.

He gave it a few minutes before turning his wand on someone else, this time a male Ravenclaw he though was called Bebbly, or something of the like. Just as Chang had done, his wand ended up soaring across the class, almost clipping Harry's ear in the process.

The boy looked confused, staring at his hand where his wand had resided several moments ago, then looking passed Harry where it lay on the floor. This time however, as Quirrell strode over, Harry found his eyes focussed on him. He should've known better, but, as he kept his face straight, he couldn't help but wink at the teacher before turning back to his book. Surprisingly, Quirrell didn't call him on it.

* * *

I know, the second part of this chapter was kinda filler again, however I don't just want to just jump to the important parts without laying a base down for Harry's interactions with people who'll become important later. It's the same in the books, JKR focuses time on Harry's potions and DADA lessons, even though they may not be useful later, so the readers can establish early on how Harry and those teachers interact. Thus – filler. Apologies, but that should be the end of it now.


	12. Chapter 12

Be warned, there is actual plot development in this chapter! It seems to happen so rarely...

Disclaimer: for several days in high school I wanted to be an author, then I realised I was crap at writing so I settled on going for Marine Biology instead :) That means, I didn't write HP, unless JKR Obliviated me... maybe that's where she got the idea of Lockhart from...

* * *

Chapter Twelve - Black Eye

Several weeks on, Harry sat down for the Halloween feast at the end of the Ravenclaw table. Flitwick had kept him behind after his last lesson that week, requesting that, for only the celebratory feasts, he sit at his own houses table and refrain from reading any books – generally just trying to give the impression he actually wants to be there.

So instead of a book before him, Harry sat practising Charms and transfigurations on the various objects on the table before him. All around him his housemates were talking loudly whilst filling their faces with sweets. He tried to keep from looking – being brought up in the orphanage, the matrons made sure they dined with proper manners; if he looked at them, shovelling food into their mouths like wild beasts, he felt sure he would lose the content of his stomach.

However, whilst practising small tricks of magic – the salt shaker ran away from anyone trying to reach for it whilst changing through various neon colours, and the pepper pot had grown wings and legs and was attempting to fly away – his focus was predominantly on Professor Quirrell who was in the dungeons rather than joining the feast – obviously not everyone was forced to attend, and Voldemort was taking advantage of the entire school being otherwise occupied.

Harry took a bite of his pumpkin tart as Quirrell levitated a trunk from a storage cupboard in the dungeons, having just unlocked it with, what looked like, some complex wand-work – it drove him insane that he couldn't see the flows of magic when using Quirrell's eyes, meaning he had to practice any advanced Defence magic he learnt whilst doing so.

He quickly raised a napkin to cover his mouth as he choked slightly on the sight within. Quirrell expanded the trunk to the size of a small room, pointed his wand in and cast "Enervate" before pacing away as an adult mountain troll reached out of the trunk. He slipped into a class as the troll wandered away before shrinking and pocketing the trunk.

It was only several minutes later that, with all the drama and squint turban of a man who had ran for his life, Quirrell burst into the room, running straight to Dumbledore and flopped to the floor in a very convincing faint.

Panic set in for several moment before Dumbledore, with sparks erupting from his wand, settled them, "Prefects lead your houses back to your dormitories, teachers with me to the dungeon."

Two things Harry noticed as the teachers ran from the room to face the problem: firstly both the Slytherins and Hufflepuffs looked extremely nervous, both being set towards the danger; and secondly, whilst the teachers had ran off, Quirrell had been pulled to one side and left. He wondered how Voldemort knew that would happen, or if it was just dumb luck.

Harry allowed himself to be sheparded back to the Ravenclaw toward where the remainder of the feast was being held but quickly slipped up to his empty dormitory – he was still roomed with the first years. He drew the drapes around his bed and lay back, continuing to watch Quirrell's every move.

* * *

As they were once more herded to the Great Hall, his mind kept wandering back to the fact there was a bloody Cerberus being kept in the school! He took his seat once more at the end of the Ravenclaw table, wondering why they were even bothering with an announcement – news of the muggleborn girl's death had spread like wildfire through the school.

The hall was decked in black and all the staff loked sombre as the students filed in. Harry took particular note of the first year Gryffindors, who all looked decidedly pale whilst they all seems to just slightly lean away from the redhead in their midst. It made hiswonder as to the group interactions in the lion's house, did they value courage only, not friendship?

Finally Dumbledore stood and the quiet whispers across the hall ceased. "It is always heartbreaking for me when I have to stand before you and explain that a member of this school has been lost. That a life can be taken at such a young age is a tragedy. Miss Hermione Granger was a real asset to this establishment. She was a quick learner and I'm sure would've become a fast friend to many, had they more time to know her. So today, we raise our glasses in a toast to Hermione Granger." He waited till everyone had lifted their goblet, "and the lesson we've learnt: to always look beyond the masks people wear, for there may be a person under there you might not expect. To Hermione Granger."

Harry raised his glass, mumbling something that vaguely resembled her name under his breath before taking a sip. If he was being honest, he had found the girl irksome, any time they were near each other she had glared at him before turning away with a huff: he could only assume she didn't believe he was worthy of becoming a second year. Not that he let it affect him in anyway, she was just another student who gained his attention for a small while before he lost interest in her, the only ones who seem able to keep his attention for longer were Theo, Draco and Higgins, whom he still sat with in a few classes.

His attention moved back to Dumbledore when he continued, "In light of these events, classes have been cancelled for the day in Miss Granger's memory." Harry shook his head, from what he'd observed, the girl would probably be turning in her grave – had she been buried yet – at the thought of classes being cancelled for her. He sighed, 'guess it's another day in the library'.

* * *

He was sat with Theo and Draco as usual that afternoon, having already reached the point where they studied in companionable silence, when he first witnessed a conversation between Quirrell and Voldemort.

When Quirrell had first started speaking aloud he had been confused, uncertain as to whether he had somehow missed someone approaching Quirrell. Seconds later he forced himself to swallow the gasp that nearly left his lips as another voice spoke back, and, as Harry was sure he hadn't heard it before, he was almost certain this was Voldemort, given the raspy quality it possessed, and the fact he was sure it came from the _back of Quirrell's head._

He shook himself from the ponderings of what having Voldemort possess Quirrell in a physical manner would mean, instead silently standing with his book and heading to the stacks, pretending to go for another text.

With the confidence of someone well versed with the layout of the stacks, Harry isolated himself into the History section, a vastly unpopulated area, only seeing the effects of students in the run up to the exam period. There he pulled a seat out and sat down, turning almost all of his concentration onto what was happening in the defence professor's office.

"The old fool will get even more cautious after your failed attempt yesterday, Quirinus, especially of us as he knows of your specialty with trolls."

"I'm sorry My Lord, I had thought-" he was cut off as he suddenly fell to his knees, his mouth wide in a silent scream for several seconds.

"Enough you incompetent fool! You need to concentrate on finding what other protections surround the Philosopher's Stone! We know of the Cerberus, the Devil's Snare and Flitwick's charmed keys. That leaves McGonagall, Snape and Dumbledore's protections. And Snape is already suspicious enough to see through our mask."

"Master, I was talking with Pomona near the start of term, and she said she'd just covered Devil's Snare in her first year class, and Flitwick's task seems to be aimed more at skill and precision, than any form of charms. It seems, Master, that other than the Cerberus, the tasks are at the level of students, surely we could simply go ahead and-"

Once more his back arched as obvious pain ran through his body. Voldemort's voice snarled again, "We're not going for the stone until either I know exactly what's down there, or there's no time left otherwise!" His voice took a more thoughtful tone, "however it does seem the tasks are at a level suitable even for a first year... Is that fool actually trying to encourage the students to the stone? Or maybe specifically one? Hm, yes... A Ravenclaw Potter is not what was expected, maybe he's trying to bring the innate Gryffindor out of the boy. I would admit, it would be an added bonus to find the boy after retrieving the stone with no one around to protect him this time..."

There was silence for several moments, the conversation obviously over, and Harry was just about to switch back to an even focus between the two eyes when a hand fell on his shoulder, startling him.

He jumped where he sat, turning to look at Madame Pince who was giving him a caring look. "Are you alright Harry? You're awfully out of it."

He nodded, giving her his best convincing smile. "Sorry, my mind got caught up in a debate between the merits of human transfigurations versus those of potions."

The librarian chuckled at him whilst shaking her head and moving off into the stacks, her face taking on her usual stern expression.

Slowly making his way back to the table Harry thought through what he'd just heard. A Philosopher's Stone in the school – was it as Muggle myth described? A stone to create immortality and gold? Tempted as he was to look for books in the library on the matter, he couldn't think of any reason he would be interested in such areas other than for pure knowledge, and he didn't think that would slide past Madame Pince if she saw what he was reading. So he resolved to wait and order the books from Diagon Alley with Hedwig.

Theo and Draco both looked up as he took his seat, obviously he'd been gone longer than he'd thought as Draco had added nearly a foot to his essay. "Couldn't find the book you wanted?" Theo asked casually as he went back to his own notes as Harry only just noticed he'd returned with the same book he'd left with.

"The other books were even less helpful" he lied easily, flicking open to where he'd last read, however Draco had tired for his own work, and decided to start up conversation.

"How much do you think Slytherin will win by this weekend?" he asked in relation to the upcoming Quidditch match, pushing his parchment aside. Harry heard Theo sigh, obviously Draco had brought up this subject before.

Harry glanced at him as Draco continued to chatter, "The Slytherin seeker isn't that great, but compared to the Gryffindor one, we've got no chance of loosing! I've heard that they haven't had a good seeker in years, so they've never got anywhere near the cup. Next year, I'm going to get father to buy me a nimbus two thousand, or better if there's something newer by then, and I'll take the seeker place on the team!"

Harry was hardly interested, Draco had made the same claims – not that he doubted the blond – when the first years had taken their flying lessons. Harry had already become a second year by then, but Flitwick gave him permission to miss the Charms lesson he should've had to take the lessons. He had gone to the first one, enjoyed the novelty of flying on a broom, then politely requested of Flitwick he be excused from the rest. There were many other methods of travel that he would much rather use and, as he had explained to Professor Flitwick, he had a good grasp on monocular depth perception, but he didn't want to test that by mounting a speeding broom, and flying around any number of objects.

Hearing it like that, the Charms Professor had easily agreed to let him miss the rest of the lessons and return to charms.

Hearing Draco pause in his monologue, Harry closed his books and slid them into his bag, "I need to go send a letter, I'll see you at dinner."

* * *

For once, when I'm posting this, I don't actually have the next chapter written! It's worrying me, especially as I'm not going to get any written tomorrow as I'm going back to uni!

Hopefully this chapter was enjoyable! Let me know what you think as always!


	13. Chapter 13

Just found out for the first time there's a limit of 15 chapters uploaded at once, never knew that.

Apologies for no updates yesterday, I've used all the pre-written chapters, though hopefully I'll remedy that today, and was out all of the afternoon with friends (it happens occasionally, lol) having much yaoi banter. Very good night.

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the HP franchise, or anything associated with it. If I did, Harry wouldn't be so damn thick a lot of the time, and that hero complex would most definitely not exist.

* * *

Chapter Thirteen - Eagle Eye

Harry wasn't all that bothered about going to watch the Quidditch game that weekend, however Draco absolutely insisted that he come and cheer for Slytherin, even having the audacity to steal one of his new books on alchemy.

Sure he had given it back quickly when he had fallen deathly silent and glared at Draco until he was shivering and sweating with nerves, but he wasn't quite willing to forget the incident yet.

And that was how he found himself surrounded by cheering Slytherin's with his book open in his lap as he tried, and failed, to read a paragraph. Seeing another of Draco and Theo's frustrated glance – though neither dared touch the tome - he gave up on his pursuit of intellectual knowledge and stood up, giving a half-hearted 'whoop' as Slytherin scored again.

The two boys rolled their eyes, simultaneously, giving the impression they had practised their timing, however they didn't complain more as he was at least making an effort to look interested in the proceedings.

He had been rather surprised that Quirrell was in attendance, sitting just in front of a superior looking Snape, and to the side of a rather grim McGonagall. He had been certain Voldemort would've taken the opportunity to scope out the defences of the Philosopher's Stone.

Oh, he had found out what it was now, and it was just as he had thought. It had seemed too good to be true to Harry, as he had contemplated all that he could learn without any limit on time. However he soon realised that, whilst drinking the Elixir of Life granted you immortality, it was an immortality with the condition you kept on drinking the elixir. You became completely reliant on the Philosopher's Stone and – whilst it hadn't happened yet in the six centuries Nicholas Flamel had been using it – who was to say the power of the stone was infinite? Oh it may last several centuries and millennia, but past that, who knew?

But Harry found the idea of immortality was still revolving in his mind. He decided to find some other means of eternal life, however the stone would be a good means to sustain his life if that took longer than expected.

He had realised, however, than taking the stone would be much more risky than he had thought. For some reason, originally – and maybe still now – Dumbledore had wanted Harry to go after the stone, or so he theorized with what he and Quirrell had observed. And that meant the protections surrounding it were not all together hugely challenging.

But having observed Quirrell, and Voldemort's, actions so far to get the stone, he wasn't too sure he wanted to go against the man. Voldemort was the Dark Lord after all, and Harry didn't think it would be in his best interests to try and steal something the man was after himself, not just now anyway. That's not to say he wouldn't still try, if the opportunity came along, and he was confident that he could get in and out with the stone with no one any the wiser. However caution was key if he wanted to succeed, the man had no qualms about setting a mountain troll loose in a school, and he had the vague impression the man had been rather pleased with the girl's death – she was a muggleborn after all.

His mind continued to wander in such a manner, even as his eye followed the fast-paced game before him, until all the students around him burst into even more raucous cheers than usual, and Harry realised the game had finished: Slytherin winning by one hundred and ninety points. He wondered if that meant he could go back to reading his book in peace now?

* * *

Harry made his way to an empty classroom on the fourth floor that Flitwick had given him directions to last night during dinner with a small smile. He was dressed in comfortable slacks and a light-weight button up shirt under his robes – it was the closest he could find to work out clothes in the wizarding world, they didn't seem to do much physical exercise anyway.

He knocked and entered when Flitwick's voice echoed through the door. Turning around after closing the door, he watched as Flitwick completed a series of wards that Harry could see pulsing slowly around the room. It was always amazing to him when he got an opportunity to study the whole wards – whilst he could see the ones surrounding Hogwarts, he couldn't ever see them in full to get a complete grasp over their structure – where he could see the main strands of magic and the mesh like pattern linking them all. His first impression was that they looked weak, fragile, but reaching out with his own magic, he was surprised to find it instantly absorbed into the webbing, redirected to the focal point of the wards then released into Hogwarts itself: a clever and simple ward.

He turned his attention back to Flitwick who was watching him with curiosity. "I suppose being able to see wards is rather fascinating. How about at the end of the lesson you have a go to see if you can figure out how to unwind it?"

Harry almost let his shock show on his face, 'he's actually going to let me teach myself how to undo wards as well? Doesn't he think that's a bit dangerous in the hands of a student? The places this can get me!'

"Well, let's get started then. Firstly, I want you to tell me what you think the most important part of duelling is?"

Harry thought to himself for barely three seconds before answering, "Agility. If your opponent can't hit you but you can hit him, it doesn't matter how good your spell work is, you're bound to win."

Flitwick gave him an approving look. "You're half right. There's actually two things that are important to duelling. The first is agility, the second is endurance. If you have the agility but not the endurance, then your opponent can simply hold out until you've tired yourself out and then hit you with one spell to end it."

Harry nodded to that, it made sense. "Don't worry too much about that though. I won't set you running laps of the school or anything, endurance will come as we practise, and believe me, you will be sweating by the end of our lessons."

Flitwick walked over to stand beside him and his wand shot into his hand from a hidden wand holder on his wrist. "The most important three spells to know to even have a chance of winning a duel are Expelliarmus, Protego and Stupefy. I believe Professor Quirrell has already taught your class Expelliarmus and its counter. The counter is practically useless; it's much safer and easier to just use Protego. Protego is a good, all-round shield that will block most medium strength curses. There's a stronger version that will block higher level curses as well but I'll teach you that later. However if a curse has enough power behind it, it can simply break through your shield – that's why agility is important. Finally Stupefy simply knocks out your opponent. We'll be practising these three spells today."

Harry had known all of what Flitwick had just told him, however he figured it would be a good idea to listen to the explanations, especially in the future when the spells became more advanced. He watched the minute professor perform the spells, then replicated them himself perfectly and receiving glowing praise.

"Well Harry, if you're confident you can do them, shall we have a small duel to see how your reflexes are and to let you practise the spells against a real opponent?"

Flitwick moved to the other side of the room, shrugging off his outer robes to reveal tailored duelling robes underneath. Eyeing the overlapping layers of what he presumed to be dragon hide, Harry decided to buy himself some for their future lessons. The dragon hide would lessen the effects of any spells that hit him, was surprisingly easy to move in, and would be good practise for real duels in the future.

He was taken completely by surprise when his wand flew from his hand without any warning. A second later it was thrown back at him and Flitwick gave him a stern glare, "Focus Harry!" he threw another curse at him, this time not one of the ones he'd just practiced, and Harry quickly dodged the golden blast, feeling the hairs on his neck raise from the lack of distance between the two. He quickly cast the shielding charm, just managing to erect it in time to block the next blue curse.

"Good! Now you need to be decide whether to maintain it or recast it each time you need it!"

Harry held the shield to deflect the next spell before allowing it to drop and casting stunners whilst dodging the incoming spells. He hadn't expected Flitwick to be using non-verbal spells, but it made sense if they were making this as real as possible.

He was taken completely unaware when Flitwick suddenly began moving from where he had taken his stance several minutes ago, his tiny legs carrying him around the room with speed Harry didn't think even he could match! The next curse, bright yellow in colour, hit him cleanly in the side, knocking him to the floor, the breath clean out of him and a nasty stinging spreading up from his waist to his shoulder.

"Get up Harry!"

He began to pull himself to his feet, shocked by the same curse hitting him again whilst he tried to regain himself.

"No opponent is going to wait for you to get back up!" He threw his shields up to stop the next spell, having to recast it to adapt as Flitwick moved around him again.

Harry hardly noticed the effects the stinging hexes had on him, nor when they faded barely a minute later, he was so focused on watching and countering every move his Head of House made. It was much harder than he had expected, especially as he just had three spells to use to counter Flitwick's enormous arsenal – though he knew the professor was using only low strength spells against him.

He was shocked when Flitwick stopped firing spells at him and called him to a halt, saying that an hour long duel was much more than he had meant to spend on their first lesson.

Harry only just managed to take that in, having only just realised how out of breath he was – had they really been sparring for an hour? It seemed like only a quarter of that time at most and he hadn't managed to land even a single hit on Flitwick, whilst he could feel the ache in his muscles from where multiple spells had got passed his guards.

A goblet of water appeared next to his face and he gratefully took it, ignoring the directions to sip rather than gulp in his thirst.

"You did well Harry, your endurance is much better than I'd expected, though I hadn't meant to have you last that long on your first attempt. I'd guess it's due to your rather impressive magic reserves, much like your father."

Harry scowled at the mention of his father, he had already told Flitwick he'd rather not be compared to the man, however he didn't mention it this time, the man had just spent a Sunday evening training him after all.

"I think next week I'll teach you some curses and hexes and we'll work from there. Now, do you feel up to having a go at the wards or shall we leave that for another time?"

Despite his slowly returning breath, Harry straightened up and nodded, turning his attention to the wards still flowing across the walls. He examined the focal point of the ward, then the opposite side which he was shocked to find just as strong as the origin of the wards. Surprised, he worked his way back from one to the other, finding it weakest half way between. Logically, it made sense – the main strands of the wards were most divided there, whilst they combined at the two ends, but with the weakest point so diverse, he couldn't simply tear that one spot to shreds, he would have to sever all the strands of magic simultaneously, otherwise they would just reform whilst he cut the rest.

His slightly taxed expression drew a smile from Flitwick who stood beside him. "They're not designed to be easily taken apart. Explain what you're thinking and maybe I can direct you from there."

Harry explained his thoughts on the weak spot divergence and the problems that caused. "Well, if the problem is severing them all at once, then how about if they were closer together? How does this 'meshing'" he used Harry's terms for it as he couldn't see the wards himself, "react when magic is introduced?"

Harry tried it by pushing a small amount of his own power into the wards, watching as the mesh in the area contracted to absorbed it as fast as possible.

"The meshing contracts, so if I put enough magic into it, the mesh would contract enough, bringing all the main strands into one area, not only making them easier to cut, but leaving the rest of the room protected by only a very thin layer, meaning someone else could destroy that part if they were strong enough."

Flitwick smiled, "very good Harry, completely correct as well. However I don't think having you try would be a very good idea, it takes a lot of power to focus then break the wards. However this sort of ward is both very simple, and very effective in both the way it works and the way it is broken but most wards used required runes and rituals to break, rather than just pure magic. We won't be looking much at wards though; it was just a curiosity of mine to see if you could figure it out."

Harry nodded, disappointed not to be learning more about them, though he supposed he could raise the subject later on, saying his curiosity had been raised and see if Flitwick would teach him more. He watched as the wards retracted themselves back into Flitwick's wand as it pressed once more into where it had first been cast.

The Charms professor bid him farewell, confirming another lesson at the same time next week before along the corridor to his office while Harry headed up the flight of stairs, slipping through the common room and straight to the showers to get rid of the sweat Flitwick had promised he would finish each night with. The lessons had been much more than he had expected, and he couldn't wait for his next one.

* * *

Just to clear up, the spell they were learning in defence the other day was a direct counter to the disarming spell, not Protego.

Also, sorry if people can't imagine Flitwick as a task master, however I think, if he were going to teach someone duelling, he would do it full on, not gently, and I was rather happy with how he turned out!

Also, I'm running out of chapter titles, though there's still a few but I don't know if they'll match up with chapters, so if anyone has any 'eye' phrases or plays on words, please tell me! I'll appreciate each one people give me, though please don't take offense if I don't use them instantly, they have to match up to the chapters. I know it's not hugely important, just something I like to do!

Let me know what you think!


	14. Chapter 14

Thanks for all the people who gave chapter title suggestions! Very much appreciated! Also, I just realised I haven't cleared this up apart from when responding to reviews - I mentioned I'm basing my Harry on an anime character - though he's gone slightly off track - the character in question was Ciel from Kuroshitsuji, a great anime if you haven't seen it.

Also, I would like to thank everyone who reads, as I've just passed 20,000 hits, thanks to each of you, especially if you review, as I've just passed 150, and this chapter should take me passed 30,000 words. Not bad really! XD

Disclaimer: If I owned Harry Potter, I would invest in making some of the things in the book real, cause honestly, who wouldn't want a broom?

* * *

Chapter Fourteen - Private Eye

The rest of that term passed rather quickly when Harry looked back on it, what with always having something to do – whether it was more reading, practising the spells he was learning or just the occasional visit to see Hedwig: he didn't have much post for her unless he wanted more books so felt he owed it to her to spend some time with her each week.

The only things that really changed were Potions and his duelling classes. The level of Snape's animosity for him had increased during his first class after beginning his private lessons with Professor Flitwick. Harry wasn't surprised the teachers knew, they would probably be monitoring his work in case he started to slack on it. However the Potions Professor seemed even more spiteful to him, implying blatantly several times about students receiving special treatment: the students had, thankfully, chalked it down to him being allowed to skip a year and left it at that, no matter how much Snape griped at him. However Harry found it easy to ignore Snape's rather pathetic issues with him, especially due to how well his duelling lessons were going. As promised, Flitwick had begun him on offensive spells the second week, and from then on had alternated between defence and offence each week and Harry had finally managed to catch Flitwick off guard in his last lesson with an extremely erratic firing pattern – during class the next day Flitwick awarded him twenty points for managing the charm they were practising instead of the normal praise.

Now Harry was heading to the library after his last class before the Christmas break. He was the only Ravenclaw staying at Hogwarts over the break so he would have the common room to study in, which was more comfortable than the library, provided he had all the books he wanted.

Draco and Theo were headed home as well. He had overheard them talking about the Winter Ball being held at Malfoy Manor this year, though they stopped as soon as he came into view. At least until he convinced them to tell him and that he didn't mind anyway. Turns out Draco had wanted him to come, but his father refused on the basis that several families 'may not act with proper decorum' within his presence. Harry cast an anti-eavesdropping spell before confirming with Draco that he meant the families in attendance were all dark and, whilst the Malfoys, Notts and several others could understand the importance of holding a positive relationship with him, the other half of those present would not be above attacking him throughout the night, and that was something Lucius Malfoy wouldn't allow to happen in his manor, not with his reputation on the line. So Draco had said that he would be invited over in the summer – the boy was obviously anxious about his reaction to being excluded.

Being honest, Harry wasn't all that bothered. He knew at present he wasn't top on most dark families 'to get friendly with' list, though he knew he would eventually remedy that. He was happy to stay at Hogwarts and carry on with his studying without disruption for once. Though he finally asked Draco for help with something he needed for over the summer - a tutor, in the Dark Arts.

To say Draco and Theo's reactions had been shocked was an understatement. Harry couldn't stop himself from chuckling at their faces, which promptly snapped them back to the reality.

"Why d'you want a Dark Arts teacher?" Draco asked.

"Why does one usually want a Dark Arts teacher Draco? Surely not to learn about haircare."

"No, I mean, why do _you_ want a Dark Arts teacher, you're not Dark, are you?" Strangely Draco sounded terrified of the thought.

"Well, at the moment I would be neutral with more light knowledge because of the curriculum here. I just haven't had the chance to learn the Dark Arts without anyone knowing. You thought I was light inclined?" he asked, humoured.

Draco and Theo shared looks which gave him answer enough and he actually laughed. "I guess I should be rather honoured then, that you still wanted to be my friends even with the wrong impression of my nature. I'm sure I've told you many times: the most important thing is knowledge, and knowledge isn't limited to dark and light."

He had turned and started to head to dinner after that, not giving them time to reply, still chuckling to himself and they had quickly raced to catch up. Strangely enough the warm feeling in his chest had stayed with him the rest of the night.

Harry shook the memories from his head before any sappy emotions could come back – he really hadn't planned to make any emotional attachments to anyone, even just friends. He sat down in the library opposite the two Slytherins as always and wasn't surprised when Draco instantly stopped his work to start talking to him.

"Me and Theo" Theo interjected with 'Theo and I' which Draco ignored, "have been thinking about anyone who could help you out with your 'studies' and we've made a list for you." He handed over a scroll of parchment, with a medium level sealing charm on it – obviously Pure-bloods teach their children some useful charms before sending them to Hogwarts. He quickly unravelled the spell, followed by the parchment and glanced over it before casting one of his own privacy charms on the parchment, linking the ink to his magic so only he could read it.

There were only a few names he recognised, and from the others, quite a few were foreign – Harry knew other countries were a lot less stringent in regards to the Dark Arts so it was much easier to practise over there. Harry suspected most of the foreign tutors had masteries in other areas, in order to cover up their true teachings when coming to places like Britain to teach. He resolved to give the list more regard over the holidays and find out more about each of them if he could.

* * *

Harry was on his way back to the Ravenclaw Common Room after a training session with Flitwick that had run significantly late when Harry asked him afterwards about the different duelling strategies. It was completely coincidence that, when heading back after curfew – was that really necessary when there was barely a dozen students in the school? – he saw Snape cornering Quirrell in a corridor one up from him.

Harry sped up, reaching the stairs quickly, thankful they led where he wanted, as he observed the scene.

"S-Severus," Quirrell stuttered, as Snape slammed him into the wall.

"You don't want me as your enemy, Quirrell."

"W-What d-do you mean?" Quirrell asked, and if Harry was honest, he didn't sound too convincing.

"You know perfectly well what I mean Quirinus. You won't be able to get the stone, even if you have managed to trick Filius and Pomona into telling you what their defences are."

Harry had reached the right floor by now, and paused just around the corner from them. There was a long pause, and Quirrell seemed to be struggling with himself before stumbling over his words.

"I-I don't... wouldn't-"

Harry put on his best innocent expression and rounded the corners.

"Professors," both men turned to look at him sharply, Snape even hissing. "Is everything alright? I heard loud voices..."

"What are you doing out of bed at this time Potter! Ten points from Ravenclaw for being out after curfew! Now get to your dorms!"

Harry bristled, giving Snape a dirty look and refusing to budge, "Actually Sir, Professor Flitwick wrote me a note, we ended up discussing duelling strategy after my lesson and accidentally talked too long. I was headed back to my dorms when I heard loud voices and was worried."

Snape dropped Quirrell's robes and stepped away from him, turning to face Harry completely. "You would do well, Potter, to learn to keep your nose out of other people's business!" he swooped past him, his robes snapping at his heels and the two left in the corridor remained silent until his footsteps disappeared from hearing.

"Are you alright, Professor?" Harry asked, approaching the Defence teacher.

"I'm f-fine Mr Potter. S-Severus is still s-slightly upset that P-Professor D-Dumbledore didn't offer h-him the Defence position."

Harry nodded and they both started walking back to the staircase. "H-How are your lessons with F-Filius going?"

"They're going very well Sir, Professor Flitwick says that by the end of the year I would be ready for duelling competitions, not that I want to do that sort of thing, this is for my safety." He gives Quirrell a sideways glance, "you never know who your enemies are," he leaves it hanging for several seconds before adding, "I would never have expected Snape to be physically violent to another Professor, even if he is often very verbally spiteful, verging on abusive to some students. Are you going to report him sir?"

Quirrell took a few seconds, pretending to consider it, though they both knew he wouldn't. His heart beat had hastened when Harry mentioned enemies, but it was rather quick at regulating itself, Harry presumed he must be used to getting nervous, what with walking around with Voldemort attached to your body.

"It w-was n-n-nothing really. I don't think t-that Professor Snape will d-do anything l-like that again."

Harry nodded to him, pausing at the stop of the staircase, "Well, I hope so Professor. I'd best be going before Filch takes points away as well!" he says before heading up the stairs towards Ravenclaw tower. He watches his own back walk away, and hears a very small whisper in his ear saying 'do it' just before Quirrell speaks up, "Potter, ten points for showing concern for your Professors."

Harry smirked to himself before turning back to face him, a smile fixed on his face. "Thank you sir, and it's good to see your stutter's going."

Even from the top of the stairs he can see the professor's face pale before he quickly races up the opposite staircase without looking back.

Harry smirked once he was out of sight, 'Everyone around here seems to be less careful than they should be. First Dumbledore slips up, now Quirrell. Suppose he'll be getting it tonight!' he pauses in his walking, his face dropping at the thought, 'didn't need that image!'

* * *

When Harry reached the safety of his dorms, he went straight to the bathroom, removing the eye patch and gently cleaning the blood from around the socket and where it had started to collect underneath his eye. He had fought to keep himself from wincing when Voldemort's emotions had spiked whilst he and Quirrell were talking, but it had been worth it. He was now almost positive Voldemort had no idea about their connection.

* * *

Okay, so several things to say here. Hopefully that last paragraph cleared things up for several people who have asked if Voldie knew about the connection in reviews. Secondly, when Harry said he hadn't expected to form any attachments that's completely true because originally he was going to be a lot more aloof around the two of them, barely aquaintances, somehow he made himself their friend instead. The same thing happened when Hermione got herself killed, completely wasn't going to happen, but then she just ended up dead. Just need to say this so that people know, as much as I intend things to happen, something they decide not to, which I'm hoping won't be the case for the HPLV because I'm completely determined! And also writing Quirrell speech is very annoying!

Also, there won't be an update tomorrow - going shopping to Glasgae! Ah, Forbidden Planet (that's a shop for people who don't know) I love thee so!

Please let me know what you think!


	15. Chapter 15

Okay, some people have mentioned that the chapters are way too short. It's true they are always short chapters, but I try to update every day, or every other day at least, so surely that makes up for it? And, as I've found with my other stories, trying to do long chapters for me just doesn't work. I loose my motivation half way through and then you don't get chapters for months and months. And, hey, I've passed the 30,000 words mark in less than a month, and, for me, that's an achievement. I apologize if the length frustrates people, but I can't see that changing anytime.

In other news, for those who are interested, Glasgow was fun! Bought much manga and anime - including vols 2-4 of kuro! (alas they didn't have 1, so I've got to wait for that to arrive :( )

Disclaimer: If I owned HP, there would probably be investigations into Snape's behaviour. I do like the man, but quite frankly, he's a bully to school children, and that's completely wrong.

* * *

Chapter Fifteen - An Eye for an Eye

For the few days left before Christmas, Harry hardly saw any other people – through his own eye, anyway – apart from at meals in the Great Hall, though he was currently trying to locate the kitchens so he didn't have to sit through Snape's constant glaring: Harry thought it was sad that the potions professor would rather spend a meal glaring at an eleven year old that converse with his colleagues.

He woke up the morning on the twenty-fifth, rather shocked to find a small pile of presents at the end of his bed. He had expected the gifts from Theo and Draco and have sent Hedwig with their gifts: Draco a book on difficult Quidditch manuevers and Theo a pair of stylish dragon-hide gloves with silk lining after he'd been complaining his own made his hands itch.

There were three other presents which he hadn't expected. The first was from the orphanage which had sent him a book on psychology which he was extremely pleased with as he hadn't had the chance to improve his muggle book collection since he started Hogwarts.

As he opened the second one, the content – an almost fluid material – slid out and onto his lap, the note within landing ontop. 'Your father left this in my possession before he died. It is time it was returned to you,' he read fingering the material before standing and throwing the cloak around his shoulders.

Looking in the mirror, he wasn't sure whether the more comical image was his face levitating without a body, or the complete shock that his face was showing. He quickly worked on masking the emotions, while one hand emerged from the cloak and lightly traced the material that couldn't be seen.

He was so keen on testing the cloak out and exploring the halls he nearly left without opening the last present. Catching a glimpse of it out of the corner of his eye, he forced himself to calm – there was no need to get ahead of himself. Leaving the cloak on, he walked back to his bed and carefully unwrapped the present. A colourful card and wand holster for his forearm fell out. He was rather touched after reading the card from Flitwick, that the professor would give him a gift after all the time he's already spending with him.

He slipped the holster onto his arm, tightened the straps then slipped his wand into place, checking the release mechanism once for practise: his wand slid right into his grasp with ease.

Dressed in casual robes under his cloak he set off. It was bizarre for him, as he passed Quirrell, to be able to see the professor but, for once, not see himself. He realised he would have to use silencing charms in conjunction with the cloak in future, so he didn't have to stop breathing whilst walking passed anyone. He reached the entrance hall without passing anyone else and ducked into a supply closet just off from it to take off his cloak. Harry figured the real test would be using it when the rest of the students were back. He made sure the cloak was completely hidden before making his way to breakfast, thanking Flitwick quietly for his gift.

* * *

After breakfast Harry, once more, donned his cloak and, beginning at the second floor, started exploring each classroom and hallway. It was dull work, but Harry hardly expected he'd find hidden secrets in every room, and it was much more productive to do so now, rather than when there were hundreds of people around to spot doors opening by themselves. However it did prove rewarding, when he discovered many secret passages in hallways and the occasional 'back door' out of classes that portrayed itself as a stone wall.

It was on the fourth floor that he came across the giant mirror. There had been several other rooms used purely for storage, but none of them held only one object, they had been filled to the brim with clutter.

He approached the mirror cautiously, stopping just outside the bubble of magic that surrounded it, which he guessed was a ward or some sort. Even from where he stood he could see the reflection in the pane of glass. He could tell it was himself instantly, even with the changes. He was taller, more developed though still lithe; his hair was longer, reaching down to his shoulder blades; his face was much more aristocratic, his cheek bones giving it definition; the robes he was wearing were ornate and heavy, obviously ceremonial though he couldn't say what for; and finally he held himself with power, his stance echoing the blazing magic around him. Harry was awed at the image, he could never see his own magic around himself – traces after casting spells were visible in the air but only once it had left his own body. The appearance of a second person behind his mirror self, though he knew no-one was present behind him truly, drew him out of his self-appreciation. The man was similarly dressed though he had much more height to bring him bearing. The magic surrounding the man combined with his own, sending sparks out in an impressive display – Harry could almost feel the shiver that would go up his back at such a collision. The man placed a long, pale hand on mirror-Harry's shoulder and gave a haughty smile to which Harry gave a quick nod. The image was transfixing, especially when it scoped out, showing him the front lines of what seemed like an army, geared out in black with faces of mere shadows.

He didn't know how long he stood there, until with a start, he dragged his attention away from the image, forcing himself not to look back once more. The framing was ornate, but it was the inscription that drew his attention – '_Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi_' – which, if Harry was being honest, was rather simple: a backwards inscription on a mirror, who've thought!

But that still left the 'what's and 'why's unsolved. This 'mirror' of desire couldn't be very common, so it would likely be known by a certain title, and why would it be left in a school classroom where anyone could come across it, even at Christmas when there was hardly any students about. Harry wondered if that was the plan, that students were meant to find it then shook his head at the thought. Students weren't meant to find it – he was. Harry knew his parents had been friends with Dumbledore, who else would've sent him the cloak now whilst there was a mirror like this to be found in the school, who else had been trying to manipulate him into certain situations? But why, what sort of importance did this mirror hold? Harry didn't know, but there was one person who might, and it would hopefully cause the headmaster some problems later on. No one manipulates Harry without him paying them back for it - an eye for an eye, as they say.

* * *

Harry knocked cautiously on the door, having never had the need to approach the professor outside of class time. He waited a ten seconds before knocking again, mostly to frustrate Quirrell whom he knew was inside, putting away the papers he'd been marking before being interrupted.

Eventually the door was opened, and Harry gave a small, cautious smile and began his part. "Professor, I'm sorry for interrupting you today of all days, but I was wandering the halls because it's pretty lonely in the Ravenclaw tower by myself, and I came across an artifact that I was wondering if you knew the purpose of. I know you travelled the world last year, so I was wondering if you came across anything like it, it's rather spectacular!" Harry knew he was blabbering, but it was a good way to keep the professor's guard down as he began to lead him down the corridor at a rather fast, excited pace.

"Mr P-Potter, I don't kn-know if I would b-be the best person t-to help you here. Professor Sp-Sp-Sprout actually knows quite a lot ab-b-bout magical artifacts. P-p-perhaps she might b-b-be better?"

Harry looked over his shoulder and slowed, looking thoughtful, "Perhaps your right Professor, but we're here now so would you at least have a look in case I don't have to bother her as well?"

He didn't wait for an answer as he pushed the door open and walked in. He hid his laughter as seeing Quirrell growl to himself in frustration before following him.

"It's a mirror that seems to show my future, or what I want Professor – does it have a name or something? Surely it can't be a very common artifact?"

The expression on Quirrell's face was caught between awe and elation, staring up at the mirror as he slowly stepped closer.

"Yes, it's called the Mirror of Erised. You can see the inscription across the top '_Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi_'. In reverse it says 'I show not your face but your hearts desire'. It is, of course, a one of a kind. But what-" he seemed to be caught in his own musings, and Harry would have liked to let him continue as he was hardly even aware of his presence anymore but he was several steps away from crossing the magical ward, and Harry didn't want to wait and see what that caused.

He grabbed the man's arms gently, unsurprised when he spun to look at him, wrenching his arm from his grip with shock. "P-Potter, I h-had almost forgotten you were h-here! It is a v-very ancient artifact, one of a k-kind I b-believe but I'm afraid I d-don't know much m-m-more than that."

Harry nodded, accepting that as truth and resolving to look more up himself and watch for anything Voldemort might tell Quirrell himself. "Well, thank you for trying Professor. You shouldn't get too close to it though, there's some sort of ward around it, and I don't know if its related to the mirror itself or whether someone's cast it around the mirror. I wouldn't want anyone to get hurt."

Quirrell nodded looking nervous, "In th-that case, Mr P-Potter, I d-don't think you should be c-coming back here. I'm sure Professor D-D-Dumbledore is only keeping it here t-temporarily for s-someone and it'll be moved s-soon enough."

Harry nodded once more, looking chastised, "Alright Professor, but I didn't mean to disturb something like that. It really shouldn't have been someone students can find it if that's the case."

"V-very true Mr P-potter. I'll make sure t-to tell Professor D-Dumbledore that and I'm s-sure he'll m-move it to a s-safer l-location."

Harry allowed himself to be led out of the hall with the professor, who then told him to head back to his dormitories before dinner. Harry did as instructed, not hiding the smirk from his face as he watched Quirrell hasten to the library to find books on magical artifacts. Seems like Quirrell thought this would be used to protect the stone as Harry had predicted. And now Voldemort knew another one of the defences, serves Dumbledore right for trying to manipulate him.

* * *

Okay, firstly, I don't think this chapter is up to the usual standards, the words just didn't come out right, but I couldn't get them to work any better :(

Secondly, does anyone ever cosplay? The anime society at uni is really quite active, and has several cosplay events each semester. I've pretty much figured who I'm going to do as my first one - Duo Maxwell - but if anyone has any ideas which aren't too expensive (Just spent another £50 on my cosplay for d-con!) I would love to hear them!

Hopefully the next chapter will be easier to write!


	16. Chapter 16

Sorry this is rather late, but I've become hooked on Gantz (thankfully for you (not for me) it's only 26 episodes long and I'm on 20 atm) and also had the urge to watch Summer Wars again, cause it's just such an awesome film! People who read these notes may remember I started this story the day before my Psych exam instead of actually revising. Found out today that I've passed all my semester one exams :)

Thank you so much for all your reviews last chapter! Whether you review every chapter (and yes, I do notice those of you who do that, and appreciate it greatly) or you de-lurkified yourself to give a one-off review: I appreciate it all!

Disclaimer: If I owned the rights to HP (which I don't) there would be much more slash involved. Also maybe a cameo for King Kazma, cause he's so awesome!

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Chapter Sixteen - Eye Opener

Harry was in the library when the rest of the school arrived back from the Christmas break. Even from many floors above it was easy to hear the shouts and screams of hundreds of students as they filed through the entrance halls to the feast. He quickly packed up his books and hurried up to the tower before heading down to dinner, making use of many shortcuts he'd discovered in his time exploring the castle.

The only place he hadn't explored during his free time was the third floor on the left hand side. He had been so tempted to go for it, throw caution to the wind and just try his luck, but he knew that would be ridiculous, firstly, even with his new invisibility cloak, getting passed the Cerberus would be impossible and secondly, he didn't know everything there was passed that, nor how long he would need to try and even if he would be able to get back out once he'd gone in! So, after exploring each room and corridor, dungeon and tower, Harry returned to his reading and practising – using the same room as his duelling lessons to practise some of his spells.

He quickly slipped into the great hall, ignoring the loud students around him as best as he could, and took a seat as close to the exit as he could. He gave a tight smile as Theo and Draco waved to him. He smirked when Pansy turned to look at who they were waving at, huffed, then leaned over the table, dragging their attention to her.

He ate his meal quickly than sent a spark of magic to his wand holster, causing his wand to shoot into his grasp where he began practising the summoning charm. It was a fourth year charm, he knew, but it had seemed a good one to start learning early, when it had popped up in several of his extra curricula Charm's books. When he had been practising earlier he could get the objects he focused on to wobble at best: by the time Dumbledore stood to give some words to the school, the salt and pepper pots were slowly sliding towards him, with seemingly great reluctance.

Harry blocked out what Professor Dumbledore was saying, instead taking the time to review all the spells that he had learnt over the holidays, and the list of ones that he wanted to learn next. Top of that list was a spell he had come across and, at first completely ignored. It wasn't until he had seen himself in the Mirror of Erised, and seen his own magic that he paid attention to the little particles of magic left behind each time he cast a spell. They would be problematic when it came to times he wanted to visit a certain place without leaving any trace behind. The spell itself acted as a vacuum or sorts: once you were ready to leave, you cast the spell and all the particles from your own wand were drawn back into the wood and you would release them again at a later time. It wasn't good to have, what he referred to as, 'dead magic' in the wand too long or it would start having an adverse affect on your casting, but as long as you expelled them within a day, there would be no effect from the spell.

It would be a very tricky spell to learn, but, with the benefits it provided, he was rather determined to master it. He zoned back in as within seconds the entire school was on their feet, all pushing and shoving to get through the door quicker. Harry rather wished he had sat further away, as he stayed in his seat until the rush had died down.

Once only a few students were left leaving the hall, he stood and slowly made his way back to the common room. His mind still occasionally wandered to the mirror. It had confused him at first, when he had the time to think about it, why he was shown that image. It took him a while to figure out that it truly was his desire, a rather startling self discovery. He always knew he wanted power, and that he would get that through knowledge: it had been his one path to allow him to go somewhere after the orphanage. But when had that desire for power turned into a wish to stand side by side with who he could only assume was Voldemort? It took his a while to realise that it had happened when he started to hate Dumbledore and turned completely from the light. He wanted revenge on the man who made him suffer in his life, and being neutral couldn't give him that, only being Dark could. As for the standing beside Voldemort, he saw that as being acknowledged as equally powerful to the Dark Lord himself. When he reached that stage, he would know all his work had paid off, Voldemort was his measure.

It was rather bizarre to Harry, having figured out his deepest desire, to realise he very slightly idolised Voldemort. He had killed his parents, leaving Dumbledore to send him to his relatives, starting a very lonely childhood. He had even tried to kill Harry himself, not that Harry knew why quite yet. But all that didn't matter to Harry, Voldemort had so much knowledge, and he had really gone far with it: Harry could respect that in people, it was what he planned to do.

He settled down into bed that night, hoping that the upcoming classes would prove more tasking that they had to date.

* * *

It was strange, Harry thought as he ducked the vibrant red curse Flitwick threw at him, how quickly time slipped past. January, February and March had passed without notice, and the school was slipping into exam time with each day that passed. Of course the Ravenclaws had started their revision long ago, Harry had picked up the first signs of stress in early February and since then it had only gotten more and more tense in the common room, quickly spreading to the library. The other students were obviously used to such things, and had quickly learnt not to disturb a studying raven for anything short of doomsday. Not that Harry had changed his schedule much. With all the practise, extra reading and duelling lessons with Professor Flitwick, Harry felt more than confidant that he would pass the end of year exams with ease. There was also the fact that his usual routine involved so much reading anyway, that there would be nothing to change except the subject matter: he saw no purpose in returning to the spells they covered at the start of the year, when there were far more interesting charms that he didn't know yet.

Draco and Theo had begged him – not a sight he thought he'd ever see of the two pure-blood heirs – to help them practise the spells they might be tested on, and also share with them what he had to do in his exams at the start of the year.

It was after one of these practices, that he collapsed on his bed, almost slipping straight to sleep. He would have, if it hadn't been for Quirrell slipping through the entrance hall and out into the grounds, swathed in layers of black. He forced himself to sit up and stay awake, watching the man head straight into the darkness of the forbidden forest.

He paused in a silent clearing, looking around nervously before beginning to whimper.

"Master... please! I could get the stone tonight! I could! Don't make me... no!" His back arched and several pained gasps escaped his wheezing mouth before he collapsed to the ground, snivelling pitifully.

Harry heard Voldemort speak, concluding he must be hidden under the turban from the location of his voice and the constant muffled sound of it.

"Fool! Get up and hurry, there's not much time!"

Quirrell slowly dragged himself from the floor and started forwards again, both reluctance and pain easily identifiable in his movements.

Once more Harry was just slipping to sleep when Quirrell stopped suddenly, ducking behind some bushes and peering into the next clearing.

Harry hadn't even contemplated what was sustaining Voldemort until that moment. It made his heart clench, something he wasn't comfortable with at all, to know that such a pure creature would be killed. And it made him feel even more twisted when he realised that his respect for Voldemort only increased: to go as far as to curse your life to that of a half, even if he had a plan to counter such, was something Harry didn't know whether he could do. Harry supposed Voldemort already had some sort of fail-safe in place, otherwise he wouldn't run the risk, but he was still putting his work – in possessing Quirrell and gaining access to Hogwarts – at risk. Would there ever be a more opportune occasion and Voldemort had to chance it by using the blood of a unicorn.

Harry forced himself to watch, now wide awake, as Quirrell cursed the beast, slashing its flank open then giving chase. It didn't take long to catch, and Harry struggled to keep his dinner down at the sight of silvery blood coating the forest. It was bizarre. Harry thought he was ready for this: he hadn't cared when Granger died; he was assisting Voldemort's return to power, yet watching him leech the blood from a unicorn was perturbing. He shrugged away the thought, though not quite with the ease Voldemort discarded the used and spoiled body before heading back to the school.

Harry turned over, burrowing his head beneath his pillow in a small show of weakness: maybe he wasn't as far gone as he thought he was. He wondered, as he drifted off, how long that would last.

* * *

Okay, some people might say: How could he see Voldie in the mirror when he doesn't actually know what he looks like? Well, the way I figure it, he didn't know what his parents looked like either, so the mirror is able to: either give them a face to go with the name, or use memories that they can't actually access from when they're children to portray faces. I assume it's the first as I'm sure Harry, in the book, sees other people around his parents that he's never met.

And yes, this chapter was devoted more to character development (or self-discovery, it seems) but it was important. I don't want my Harry to suddenly just be evil but he doesn't actually realise that he's not yet, which is why seeing the unicorn killed was such a shock to him, that he still felt upset seeing it happen. Hopefully that came across in the chapter.

Well, if you still like, drop me a line! ^^


	17. Chapter 17

Okay, so just to warn you, from now on I might struggle a lot more to keep to the 'one a day' schedule, what with lectures starting again on Monday However I will do my best.

Thanks to all the reviewers, you make my day! And now I'm passed 200 reviews! Thanks so much!

Disclaimer: If I owned HP, there would be better rights for three-headed dogs kept in small rooms. Poor Fluffy!

Warning: there is a whole _swear word_ in this chapter.

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Chapter Seventeen – Twitchy Eye

Anyone who really knew Harry – that limited the group to Theo only, he was just slightly more perceptive than Draco - could tell that he was getting nervous as exams came around. Of course it was chalked down to the same exam stress that was affecting all the students.

But that wasn't right. Harry was hardly affected by the exams: he simply treated them like another practical class and, as always, breezed through them. No, what had Harry nervous was the fact that Voldemort still hadn't made a move on the Philosopher's Stone: there was only a few weeks left and they were ticking away quickly.

It was much more obvious to the students that Quirrell was getting twitchy: there were many jokes made about the vampires he had run into on his travels coming after him.

When it finally happened, Harry was almost surprised: it had been put off for so long, Harry was starting to wonder if Voldemort just wanted to teach Defence and let the stone go.

* * *

Harry was just settling down to bed when Voldemort told Quirrell to go for the stone tonight: Harry had taken little notice of the fact Dumbledore was missing during dinner that night, now it seemed so obvious that it was by Quirrell's own doing – he had seen the letter he sent after all. Now he hesitated: he really should just stay where he was and observe, getting closer would just put him in danger. But he could always stay a safe distance away, there was something compelling about being closer to Voldemort when he retrieved the Philosopher's Stone from Dumbledore's own turf.

Hesitantly at first, then with growing fever, he pulled his robes back on then fixed the invisibility cloak over the top, making sure nothing was visible from beneath it.

He carefully made his way back down to the common room, cautious, even with the silencing spell.

It was only eleven o'clock, but there were only a few people left in the room, all of them hunched over their own books in silence. Harry cursed to himself, that would just make it trickier.

He sidled up to the exit, drawing his wand and casting a weak notice-me-not charm around the door and quickly slipped out – it wouldn't so for the students to not be able to find the door the next morning for class: it would wear off in barely an hour.

Harry was thankful for silencing charms as he made his way down the many levels between Ravenclaw tower and the third floor, he was extremely conscious of his loud breathing, and the echoing sounds of his footsteps on the stone floor.

His mind was almost blank, so focused on the realisation that Voldemort was finally making his move, that he almost continued straight to the third floor corridor where Quirrell was just outside the door.

He backed up, spotting a small alcove behind a suit of armour to ensconce himself in whilst watching the Dark Lord's continue forwards.

It was awe-inspiring, the way his wand whipped through the air creating a powerful ward around himself that stopped the lunging Cerberus several metres away from him before he pulled a miniature instrument form his pocket and returning it to its original size. As soon as the harp was its full size, the strings began to pluck themselves, creating a soothing lullaby that quickly enough settled the Cerberus into a deep slumber.

Harry could hardly believe that getting passed the creature could be so easy. He figured he shouldn't be so shocked: he himself was always under-estimated, there must be things in the world that were over-estimated, and this Cerberus was one of them. He had witnessed the conversation between Quirrell and an unknowing Hagrid, but, even then had not taken what the giant said seriously but it turned out to be true. Harry wondered why they would use a creature with such a glaring weakness from a man who was far too prone to letting information slip off his tongue. Why not have Professor Kettleburn provide an easier to tame creature, that was loyal to Dumbledore and would attack anyone else, rather than one that would attack anyone but had a gapping flaw. There was a reason griffins were used to guard treasure normally: they were ferocious creatures when protecting something, and the only way passed for anyone other than the one they trust, would be over its dead body.

Voldemort apparently had similar thoughts, as he levitated the body away from the trap door, Harry heard a murmured 'Pathetic'. The large creature was dropped heavily, still snoring loudly, against the far wall as Quirrell turned his attention back to the trapdoor. With a flick of his wand, the wood flew up, slamming into the floor and cracking down the centre. With a small chant, the first Harry had heard from his lips all night, his wand started to glow before he threw the light down through the hole in the floor.

The sight below, though Harry expected it, made his skin crawl. The ball of light hovered a foot above a mass of writhing tentacle like vines in a dank pit. It was easy to see them sliding away from the powerful glow the ball emitted, leaving an almost three meter wide opening through to a chamber underneath the first.

While Harry was trying to gauge the distance between where Quirrell was standing and the now solid floor showing below the creeping vines, Quirrell moved, jumping down without concern, shooting a cushioning charms as he fell which, Harry thought, must have been extremely high powered, as Quirrell landed in a crouch and simply stood and continued walking.

Seeing himself fall, even if he knew it wasn't his body, Harry had felt his heart triple its pace and leap into his throat, his breathing completely stopping until stone flooring was directing under both bodies again. He heard himself give a weak chuckle which morphed into uncontrollable laughter until he forced his body back to a motionless state, still feeling the rushing of his heartbeat: that had been exhilarating; maybe he'd have to find something to get his adrenaline going in the future.

He let his attention slide back to Quirrell, who was stepping through the door into the next room behind the magical ball of light.

The first thing he noticed was the sound of many, many wings beating all around him. The second was the constant flicker of light reflecting off metal everywhere above them, constantly moving.

Quirrell obviously figured out what was going on before he did, as, before Harry could figure out what the metal objects were, he had looked away, moving to a set of brooms. Only when he mounted and shot himself into the midst of the shimmering objects, did Harry realise what they were.

It didn't take long for Quirrell to corner the key he wanted, and Harry wondered if this was as hard as it was going to get. Exactly as both Quirrell and he had thought, given the appropriate research throughout the year and just plain skill, Harry would've been able to get through these challenges with the ease Quirrell was. He started when the winged keys turned on Quirrell the moment his fingers closed around the chunky one for the next door. Maybe this was a slight bit more dangerous, but it didn't require strength or power, just skills on a broom.

Quirrell slid off the broom with grace Harry hadn't seen before in the man, throwing his shield up again, repelling the keys as he fitted the struggling one in hand into the door and pushing it open, leaving the key to wriggle itself out and fly off, one wing crooked.

Harry almost choked at the sight of the next defence, feeling his visible eye twitch in annoyance. Were they even taking this seriously? Besides the Cerberus and the Devil's Snare, the other two tasks had been child's play, with a twist, literally. A simplified version of Quidditch, and now chess? Harry barely even paid attention as Quirrell played his way across the room, not at all surprised at the violence with which the pieces removed one another from the board.

They were all rather pointless, these 'defences', Harry mused as Quirrell began sniffing the various bottles sat out before him before gulping down one to the left-hand side, having taken care of the troll he himself placed there. All in all, Harry was actually rather bored. Besides the death-defying leap passed through the first chamber, he had found the rest simply dull, and now as Quirrell reached the mirror and simply began observing it, occasionally casting a non-verbal charm with his wand, Harry was beginning to believe that Voldemort would simply find the stone and leave, nothing else. In fact, since the moment he'd entered the third floor, it had only taken him twenty minutes to get as far as he had: the chess game having taken the longest.

Harry almost headed back to bed before deciding he might as well stay till the end, this would be a rather momentous occasion at least, the day Voldemort steals the Philosopher's Stone from right under Dumbledore's nose. It was whilst in these musings, thinking about what would come about from this day, that he notices several things.

The first was Quirrell's growing frustration. He was starting to growl under his breath, his grip on his wand tightening and Voldemort's vicious whispers resounding in his head.

The second, and possibly more important change, was the footsteps approaching rapidly causing Harry to hold his breath even under the invisibility cloak.

'Well shit,' he thought to himself miserably, as Dumbledore rounded the corner.

* * *

Sorry for the shortness! It was a hard chapter to write without getting too boring with going through each of the challenges with Quirrell - that's not how I want this story, you probably all know about the tasks so I didn't want to go into too much detail with them.

Okay, so the next part follows on directly and should be slightly more interesting (for both you and harry I hope). Let me know what you think, constructive comments are always helpful.


	18. Chapter 18

Thanks so much for the amazing response to the last chapter! Made me very happy!

Disclaimer: If I had written HP, the chapters would probably be aggravatingly short... which they're not.

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Chapter Eighteen - Keep Your Eye on the Ball

'Well shit,' he thought to himself miserably, as Dumbledore rounded the corner.

Though Harry knew he was safely hidden, both underneath the invisibility cloak, and in an alcove behind a suit of armour with a silencing spell around him, he still found himself instinctively huddling into himself and holding his breath, waiting for the man to pass.

There was no need for him to panic though, as the headmaster bustled right passed him and around the corner, headed straight for the door to the chamber containing the slumbering Cerberus.

Harry was split on what to do: a part of him was demanding he quickly and quietly retreat back to his bed in the Ravenclaw Tower; pretend he was never there and observe what happens from afar. Another, more prominent part, was demanding he follow Dumbledore with a decent sized space between them and watch what happens through his own eyes: the thought got his blood pumping and he soon found his feet moving without though, taking him around the corner to the open door, ignoring the 'safe' voice, and the very small, more reasonable one telling him to just stay where he was – it was both near, yet not close enough to be in any danger. But with his blood pumping again the way it was, he found that being close to the danger was what he wanted: he wanted to feel the magic of the two greatest wizards of the time as they fought; wanted to see firsthand who conquered between the two of them.

Harry was hardly aware that only a scant few seconds had passed while he mentally debated what to do, thus he was surprised when he reached the door and found Dumbledore stood over the open trap door, mumbling words of Latin under his breath, his wand motioning in his right hand whilst his left was held over the hole in the floor, dripping blood through into the next room. Harry almost staggered when a massive amount of magic spread from one tiny spot directly below Dumbledore – where he assumed the drop of blood had landed – taking barely seconds for it to spread across the floor, walls and ceiling until the whole room was encapsulated by it. The moment that happened, Harry could hear the writhing of the vines as they burst into furious motion and he was extremely curious about what was happening, but forced himself to hold back until Dumbledore lowered himself through the hole, using magic to control his decent unlike Quirrell's exhilarating free-fall.

As Quirrell had done, Dumbledore lit his wand, allowing Harry to watch his movements in the previously pitch black room. He stopped at the next door, where Harry guessed he was performing the same spell again. Harry took the opportunity to levitate himself down, his heart growing faster and faster with each passing second as his feet lightly made contact with the ground just as Dumbledore finished once more.

It was rather obvious what the spell was doing; what with the vines retreating to the edge of the room, and now the right key flying into the lock and opening the door before Dumbledore even reached it. It was the same in the next few rooms and Harry only got more and more worked up as they grew closer and closer to the end and Voldemort. He noticed the moment that Voldemort realised Dumbledore was approaching – the headmaster wasn't exactly discreet in his movements – just as they were passing the still unconscious troll, Harry was beginning to wonder whether it was actually dead.

It was a bit disappointing really, that Voldemort had had so much time with the mirror and hadn't managed to figure out how to retrieve the stone from within it. Now he'd lost his chance, as Dumbledore entered the chamber, Harry settling himself down in the corner of the previous one, watching their exchange.

* * *

"Poor Quirinus. I'm guessing you got him on his travels last year Tom: I should have warned him to stay away from Albania." His face hardly seemed to show any sympathy for the possessed professor. "And I had so hoped to keep a defence professor past a year." Dumbledore spoke in his grandfatherly tone, but Harry could tell from his expression he was more than ready to fight whenever Quirrell should attack.

Voldemort's voice began to sound throughout the chamber, as Quirrell reached up, finally unwinding the purple material and Harry found his vision suddenly switch from one side of the head to the other, getting his first view of Voldemort's physical manifestation reflecting in the Mirror of Erised. It was rather sickening yet inspiring: the lengths he had gone to, to make his way back to power, Harry needed to know how he did it.

"And yet you allowed me to stay in the castle for so long, slowly figuring out the defences that you put around the stone: not that I needed to, Quirrell was certainly correct about the level of them, a first year could pass these, or was that what you wanted?" Voldemort began to stalk to the right, circling Dumbledore slowly and cautiously, both not taking their eyes from the other.

"Tell me _headmaster_, what was it like to see your Golden Boy sorted into Ravenclaw? Making friends with Slytherins? Advancing faster than you could get control of him? Does he remind you of myself? Can you feel the hatred in him, the desire to know _more_? He's already slipping away from you, and you can't stop him."

Dumbledore frowned, but didn't look concerned. "Harry is nothing like you Tom. He may be smart, like you were, but he is genuine in his feelings for others, he had closer bonds with those two Slytherins than I think even he realises. And, although he didn't end up fighting you today, Harry is preparing himself to fight you in the future: he will fulfil the prophecy Tom."

Voldemort suddenly lashed forwards, a violet plume crossing the distance between them, "Enough talking old man!"

And suddenly the room was filled with flashes of light, some colliding and bursting into fountains of sparks, others making their way past and being dodged, or absorbed into the shields the two wizards had raised: Dumbledore's a typical glowing white, whilst Voldemort's was an almost fluid looking red.

It was obvious watching the two of them, that Dumbledore had the advantage. Voldemort was struggling to keep up with the fast pace Dumbledore was setting whilst maintaining control over Quirrell's body. And it wasn't long before a turquoise spell shot right at him, piercing straight through the shield and hitting Quirrell's torso. Voldemort seemed to merely shrug it off, however Quirrell obviously got the full force of the spell, falling to his knees with a tortured scream, "No! Please! Make it stop!"

Dumbledore paused for a split second, looking pained before setting his face and pointing his wand directly down at Quirrell where he crouched. However that split second was too long and as the words 'Avada Kedavra' left the headmaster's mouth, Voldemort lunged the body to the side, throwing a blue curse which Dumbledore parried messily as Quirrell got his feet beneath him and took off through the exit to the chamber, Voldemort still faced backwards and continuing to fire spells off at Dumbledore as they moved.

Harry huddled further into his corner, wand in hand ready in case any spells were rebounded his way, but none came, then Voldemort was out of the room, then Dumbledore, and he could see them both making their way passed the motionless troll, then the chess pieces which were still immobile from what Harry assumed must have been Dumbledore deactivating the defences on his way in.

It was a strange moment, caught up in watching their ongoing duel, that Harry didn't even notice his feet moving on their own until his left eye caught sight of the shimmering surface of the mirror directly in front of him, his own body staring back even whilst he was under the cloak. He pulled it off, not sure why except from he wanted to stand as he was before the mirror.

'Voldemort figured the stone was inside the mirror... but couldn't figure out how to get it out. I doubt there's anything I have to do physically, Voldemort probably would have figured that out, and Dumbledore wouldn't make it too easy, no matter what the other tasks were like.' Harry mused to himself before shaking his head. 'Why did I even come here? If Voldemort couldn't manage, how could I?' However even as he thought those words, his reflection in the mirror moved, giving its pocket a rather noticeable pat and a cocky smirk. For several seconds Harry stood non-plussed before glancing down. "No way..." the words escaped him and he couldn't hope to get his facial expression under control at the small lump visible in his pocket.

Harry realised he'd have to start controlling his body better, as his hand moved of its own volition and pulled a blood red stone from the material, his fingers grasping it tightly as if thinking it would slip away if he didn't keep a firm grip on it. He looked back to his reflection but it had returned to the image he had seen the first time he peered into the mirror. That, along with the sudden explosion of the entrance hall doors being thrown off their hinges by a vicious curse, drew him back to reality suddenly, and he threw the cloak over his shoulders as he rushed out the doors and through the chambers that seemed deathly quiet in comparison to the still ongoing duel, now occurring on the path to the gates, temporarily at a standstill.

Harry only remembered, as he passed by the troll, that his magic trace was all over the area from the silencing spell he was still using. He cursed loudly, watching Dumbledore and Voldemort continue duelling, edging ever closer to the school boundaries, before rushing back and cleansing the room of his magic so no one would be any the wiser to his presence. His heart was pounding loudly in his ears, and he forced himself to stop at the door to each room and repeat the spell until he finally stood in the small patch of light that came through the trap door many feet above him.

It was as he levitated himself back onto the floor above that Voldemort finally managed to step out of the school wards, instantly apparating away with what Harry guessed was suppose to be a mocking grin, but looked more like a mangled grimace.

He wanted so much to just run, leaving the scene as quickly as possible, but Dumbledore was still at the school gates, so he forced himself to kneel recalling his magic from his ascent then moving to the door and doing the same for the Cerberus' chamber. Just as he turned to leave the room he heard the harp give a pluck, then fall silent and only his training with Flitwick made him move fast enough to avoid the sweeping paw the beast threw out at him. He backed through the door quickly as it paused, looking around and sniffing: obviously knowing he was there but not able to pinpoint his location.

He started running then, hearing the creature's crazed barking and ignoring the painful stitch that was making him want to just double over whilst he caught his breath.

He reached the stairs without running into any professors – most likely all being drawn from their chambers by the noise from the duel – and almost lost count of the floors he ran up. He was just passing the seventh floor when McGonagall rushed out from the corridor he was just approaching, running passed him as he threw himself to the side, holding his panting breath for several seconds – as long as he could – until she was at the bottom of that flight of stairs.

He started again, noticeably slower now, his feet dragging on the stone floors as he ran. At the bottom of the tower he considered resting, but was so close he simply pushed the door open, barely having the energy to wince when it hit the wall behind it harder than intended. The stairs had never seemed so steep or laborious as they did then. He could feel the cold seep into him even before he was half way up, and it shocked his body into action again, giving him the energy to take the last few meters with the speed he'd started with.

Completely ignoring the pellets of dead bones and fur, he collapsed to the floor, pulled his cloak off and breathlessly called, "Hedwig"

Harry didn't quite understand the familiar bond that linked him with Hedwig, he had never been interested enough in it to properly study it beyond the fact that it was there, giving the owls the ability to locate their master when needed, but he was thankful for it as the snowy owl swooped through the window landing on his shoulder with more force than usual. He guessed he'd just interrupted one of her hunts as he talons dug a bit deeper than usual before they loosened and she affectionately nipped his ear, probably noticing the state he was in.

His arm felt like lead, but that didn't stop it rising to gently stroke her plumage. "Hedwig, I need you to do something extremely important for me, alright girl?" she gave his ear another nip causing him to give her a tired smile as he pulled the stone from his pocket. "I need you to take this stone then bring it back to me when I'm at the orphanage, alright? Try not to let anyone see you and whatever you do, don't drop the stone unless you're in danger. Can you do that for me girl?"

Harry took the neck nuzzle she gave him as confirmation, and held the stone up for her to grip, placing a gentle kiss on her neck before standing and walking her to the window where she threw herself off his shoulder, plummeting down before flaring her wings and catching a current of air and swooping back up to his level and setting off towards the mountains in the distance.

Harry didn't remember much after that: grabbing his cloak, shrugging it around his shoulders and making his way back down the steep stairs and to the Ravenclaw tower. All he remembered was the huge relief he felt at finally seeing his bed again and thinking 'Well that's that,' before blackness encompassed him.

* * *

This is my attempt at action, I hope it's not too painful – I'm not that great with action scenes really... And just couldn't help myself with the cute Hedwig-ness at the end.

Also, I'm using the book's Owlery, which is part of the main castle in the West Tower.

In regards to this chapter, I don't see why Harry always has to go after the stone himself. Yes, he went after the stone in this one, but it was just opportunistic, rather than premeditated. Sure, he's always wanted it, but he hadn't actually planned to do anything really – tbh, who would when they know the Dark Lord himself is after it? Stealing immortality from a Dark Lord, maybe not the best plan...

Also, Dumbledore disabled the defences in each room, hopefully everyone noticed that. I find it hard to believe that 1) Dumbledore could get to Harry so quickly in the book without doing so, and 2) that he would not have a way to allow him through the defences almost instantly. I just can't imagine Dumbledore on a broomstick flying after a winged key...

As for the cloak, I'm actually using the basis that Dumbledore used the Homenum Revelio spell to detect Harry under his cloak (HP Wikia), rather than having a special skill that allows him to see under cloaks at will (that sounded wrong, didn't it?)

Reviews are appreciated, especially for this chapter!


	19. Chapter 19

Thanks for the awesome feedback last chapter! You guys rock! Unfortunately, as I've been saying for the past few chapters, uni starts again tomorrow, so we'll see then how often updates are going to be.

Disclaimer: do you ever wonder if JKR actually has an account and relieves herself of all her slash fantasies on fanfic? Well I do, but I'll let you know right now I'm not her, so don't own any rights.

* * *

Chapter Nineteen - Throwing Dust in Their Eyes

The next morning Harry cursed his internal alarm clock as it woke him up at seven o' clock – he had no idea what time it was when he reached his bed last night.

He headed straight to breakfast, surprised at first to see so many students up and about, until he caught wind of what they were saying. It really shouldn't have come to a shock that the students had seen some of what had happened last night: both the towers had perfect views over the front grounds, and if the noise had been enough to rouse the teachers, it would definitely wake the students as well.

All the teachers were conversing tensely at the staff table, looking ready to jump up and start the school again. Dumbledore himself sat quietly at the head of the table, frowning thoughtfully at his eggs: Harry figured he had discovered the stone was missing, and trying to figure out how Quirrell had retrieved it without his knowing.

As the tables began filling up with students, Harry was actually content to sit and listen to the wild rumours flying around the school. Most of the students had realised it was Quirrell that was duelling Dumbledore, however some still insisted that it was Grindelwald come back to power and trying to kill Dumbledore for defeating him the first time. The rest of the students were slightly closer than that, but the theories varied greatly from person to person. Some where far-fetched: Dumbledore and Quirrell were in a fierce duel over the last sherbet lemon: some Harry would rather not have heard; they were having a lovers' quarrel: and some were surprisingly accurate; that Quirrell was actually being possessed by Voldemort and had attacked the headmaster in his sleep (humorously, the Hufflepuff had been quickly shot down when she suggested it).

What Harry found strange though, was no longer seeing the Great Hall through both his eyes in the morning. Now he could see the interior of another building, however he had no idea where it was and had paid barely any attention to it last night as he had been so close to unconsciousness, he was surprised and extremely relieved he'd made it all the way back to the dormitory rather than passing out along the way.

It wasn't surprising when Dumbledore stood to speak, the whole hall falling silent quickly, all of the students having been glancing at him frequently throughout breakfast.

"As many of you might now know, Professor Quirrell was forcibly removed from the grounds last night. The investigation into his misdeeds is currently ongoing, however it has been decided that you will be sent home tomorrow. Your parents have all been informed and will be present to collect you at the station."

Harry was surprised at his abruptness before noticing the dark shadows underneath his eyes: the whole affair was obviously taking its toll on Dumbledore, he was worried, and not at his best. It was really showing if he would leave the students to theorize on their own rather than head off the speculation with some well placed words.

* * *

Harry spent the morning packing his belongings, shocked at the number of books he'd managed to accumulate over the course of the year. He resigned himself to shrinking his first year books, not being able to read them until he returned for his next year at Hogwarts. Then he headed down to the library with all the books he'd borrowed before heading to the Quidditch pitch where Draco and Theo were watching the Slytherin team practice for the last time before the holidays. The team had won the Quidditch cup with ease just before the exams began, their only real challenge being the Hufflepuff team, who had just found a new seeker.

Normally he wouldn't settle for watching a game of Quidditch – after the first game he'd attended, he's firmly declined watchin the rest, spending the time reading instead – but he was in a farther good mood, which Theo and Draco picked up on easily.

It was after Marcus Flint pulled off a rather spectacular goal that Theo finally asked him about it. Harry gave them a hesitant look before he smirked, checking they were still alone (Draco had demanded they watch from the far Slytherin stands instead of the near ones; he wanted a whole stand for themselves and neither Harry not Theo could be bothered arguing with him that day) and casting a privacy charm on the three of them.

"I know what went on last night," he told them simply, managing to draw Draco attention away from the game before him with intrigue.

"And?" Theo asked impatiently, trying not to show just how curious he was but Harry smirked, it was rather obvious.

"Did you ever wonder why the third floor was off limits?"

That was it, if he didn't have their attention before, he most certainly did now and neither was trying to hide it any more.

"Well, it was a bit suspicious... a whole floor out of bounds..." Draco said slowly.

Harry's smirk was almost hurting his face it was so big. "It was more than just 'a bit suspicious'... he was keeping the Philosopher's Stone there."

Harry was pleased with the gasps they both gave; he didn't want to have to explain it to them.

For several seconds neither of them spoke and Harry waited for it to sink in. "He was keeping the _Philosopher's Stone_ in a _school_?" Theo finally spluttered, shocked. "There's so many people that would try and steal that! It's a huge risk!"

Harry smirked, about to continue but Draco beat him to it: "That's what Quirrell was doing, right? Never would've thought he had it in him..."

Harry couldn't help the laugh, "Well, I wouldn't say he had it _in him_ exactly. I would say more that it _possessed _him." At their non-plussed looks, he spelled it out for them. "Voldemort."

He really shouldn't have been shocked at their completely blank looks, followed by laughter. "Did you just say _Voldemort _was possessing Quirrell? As in p-p-poor st-stuttering Pr-Professor Quirrell?" Draco asked, laughing hard.

"How did you think that up?" Theo asked, almost curiously.

Harry sat there disdainfully, waiting for them to finish their insane babbling laughter.

"I would think it would be obvious why I could tell. The scar may be an ugly and unfortunate addition to my otherwise stunning visage," his voice dripped with sarcasm, "but it certainly lets me know whenever the Dark Lord is near. He's been in every defence class with us since the start of term. Whether you believe me or not is up to you." He stood abruptly and walked away, leaving the two Slytherin's rather startled by his declaration.

* * *

He didn't see them again until the next day when they joined him in his compartment on the Hogwart's Express. Harry put up silencing charms instinctively as they all sat. For a few minutes it was quite before Theo spoke tentatively.

"So, you're saying that Voldemort was actually teaching us Defence all year?"

Harry snorted, "No, he was just using Quirrell's body some of the time, to sustain himself. It was Quirrell teaching us, but he just had Voldemort's head under his turban."

The shocked looks on their face made Harry unable to stop from laughing, breaking the awkward atmosphere.

"So he went after the stone, Dumbledore caught him before he could leave and they end up duelling?" Draco asks.

Harry nodded: technically, Draco was completely correct, he would just leave them with the impression that Voldemort had managed to steal the stone, the less people that knew the truth, the better.

After that they settled into several games of wizarding chess which Harry rather enjoyed, as he'd never had anyone he wanted to play against before Draco and Theo. Passing the time like this, it wasn't long before they reached London.

Harry knew Mrs Port was waiting on the other side of the barrier, ready to take him back to the orphanage. He found it amazing that it had been nine months since he had last set foot there.

But first, Draco and Theo both insisted on introducing him to their parents who were conversing with each other away from the hustle and bustle of the other reunited families.

Harry found it rather humorous when, as they approached, both Draco and Theo changed completely from the easy-going children, to, what he guessed must be their pure-blood heir personas. However he did his best not to laugh, especially in front of their parents.

Once they had both received a hug from their mother, and a pat on the shoulder from their fathers (pure-bloods were so monotonous, Harry decided) Harry was introduced to each of them, starting at the Notts and finishing before Lucius Malfoy.

They both regarded each other cooly before Mr Malfoy offered him a gloved hand. "Lucius Malfoy, a pleasure."

Harry took the offered hand, rather annoyed at his stature forcing him to look up to meet the grey eyes watching him. "Harry Potter, the pleasure is mind Mr Malfoy." He almost said 'sir' instead, but quickly stopped himself, feeling that would give the impression he was the lesser of the two, something he didn't believe and didn't want Mr Malfoy to get the wrong impression.

"Draco is rather keen on having you visit him during the holidays. I'm sure the two of you can set up something without needing me to supervise?"

"Certainly." He turned to Draco, "I'll send you an owl when I'm free. I have some... _business_ to take care of first but I'm hoping it won't take too long."

Draco nodded and Harry backed away from the two families, giving a slight nod to both men, "It was a pleasure to make your acquaintances."

Without another word he turned and headed through the barrier to the waiting Mrs Port.

Harry sat down on his bed, already missing the comfort of the Ravenclaw dormitories. His trunk was at the end of his bed, locked, as it would stay unless he was getting something out of it: the children in the orphanage were endlessly nosy. He was settling back with an Arithmancy book when he heard the taps on his window.

Smiling, he made his way to the window and let Hedwig land on the forearm he offered.

"I trust you had no problems girl?" he asked, as she offered him the stone still clutched in her talons.

She hooted gently and he moved back to his bed where she moved from his arm to his thigh and settled down to enjoy the thorough petting he was providing.

"Now Hedwig. What shall we do with this?" he questions, observing the stone in his hand curiously.

* * *

And that's that for the Philosopher's Stone. Thanks to all the awesome reviews and continuous support, you've all been great!

As I said at the beginning, not sure how the updates will be from now but hopefully they'll still be frequent.

Also, most of my plan was about the first book. From here I'm pretty much winging it though I know what the next few chapters are going to involve, past that it's just about anyone's guess apart from a few vague ideas. Hopefully it won't start going downhill!


	20. Chapter 20

Sorry for the delay! Haven't had a night free to post this. Meant to last night, but it was my academic dad's birthday, so we all went out for drinks :) Good times! Not only that but there's been much Glee goodness, making me read glee fics instead of typing ;P

It's been hard to get times to write, so I'm hoping things will settle down soon. I also have a crossover fic idea which is just not leaving me alone, so might have to type it up before I get more of this one done :(

Apologies for the length and thanks for all the reviews last chapter!

Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to the HP universe or anything contained there within. If I did I'd use the money to buy the rights to Glee!

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Chapter Twenty

It was only three days into his summer holidays, but Harry had spent all his time studying the stone and reading any books that could possibly relate to it that he'd purchased on his first day back on a trip to Diagon Alley to purchase himself enough books to satisfy him for a few weeks at least. And in only three days, Harry was very close to admitting defeat: the stone had taken many years for Flamel to correctly synthesise, after having decades of learning and theorising beforehand: it would be a miracle if he found a way to work it properly. He thought he'd have just the slightest bit of an idea, had he had the Potions classes on basic Alchemy, but that wasn't covered until sixth year in the N.E.W.T classes. Once again Harry was laid out on his bed, simply staring into the red stone's depths, his focussed slipping further and further away from his body until he was concentrating completely on his former defence professor and inhabitee who were currently pouring over texts searching for any means to restore the Dark Lord's body.

So far there had been several mentions of a 'horcrux', though Harry didn't know what that was, the term having never appeared in any of his books leaving him to assume it was some form of Dark Arts. He had finally learnt where they were that morning, when Quirrell hesitantly questioned how long they would be staying in Little Hangleton, to which Voldemort had sneered before crippling Quirrell in pain for nearly a minute.

Harry hadn't been surprised when news of the stone's theft had reached the paper. Though the Ministry, Flamel and Dumbledore all refused to comment on who the thief was, Flamel had been quoted saying he was most displeased that it was stolen as he had been assured it was extremely safe and would remain so. There was much speculation on why the stone had been moved to Hogwarts in the first place, and great outcry over the risk it had posed, keeping such a sought after object in a school.

He would have rather liked to see Voldemort's reaction upon hearing the news, however the man didn't receive the Daily Prophet, and so he would just have to wait: not much longer though, as Harry was about to move to plan B.

As he hadn't really expect himself to be able to figure out the mechanisms for the stone (plan A), he had already set up his next strategy, and was prepared to execute it tomorrow.

Finally resigning himself to his defeat at the hands of the inanimate stone, Harry flicked off his light, lay down and tucked the stone underneath his pillow alongside his wand, slowly falling asleep.

* * *

The next morning, Harry left the orphanage before seeing any of the other children: he had managed to avoid them so far this holiday, and was just waiting for the first encounter, hoping they would be content to leave him be.

He took the Underground to the station nearest Diagon Alley then walked the rest of the way. It was nice to have so much freedom again, after having been cooped up inside the, albeit large, castle for several months. Being able to go wherever he wanted, whenever, was something he greatly appreciated the orphanage for, and had greatly undervalued it until it had been taken away.

He headed to the post office first, hiring an owl and offering it the strongly bound newspaper and parchment before sending it off with directions to drop it then make a quick escape. Harry wasn't sure whether the owl understood, or he was just too use to his close bond with Hedwig and her incredibly high level of intelligence.

However, he watched it swoop out of site, hoping he wouldn't be sent a bill for a non-returned owl before heading back into the hustle and bustle of Diagon Alley.

He tried to be as inconspicuous as possible, as he drew his cloak closer around him, the hood shadowing his face, before slipping down the darkened alley to visit Borgin and Burke's. He'd scoped out the area last summer, but hadn't had a need to enter any of the shops beyond curiosity. Now he entered the dank, musty shop at a slow pace, observing the wares for a good minute before approaching the owner at the till.

"Can I 'elp you, sir?" The man Harry presumed to be either a Borgin or Burke asked, his voice cautious, yet curious.

"There are two things I require, Mr..." Harry trailed off, and it took the man several moments to realise he was waiting for his name.

"Borgin, sir, and what might they be?" His eyes had become greedier as they conversed.

"Discretion and information."

"Well, you'll be finding both of 'em here. Whe'er you get 't though, depen's on what you off'ring."

Harry pulled a small bag, filled to the brim with galleons from his robes, careful not to touch anything in the shop as he did so.

"One hundred galleons, dependant on what you've offering," Harry mimicked Borgin's original statement.

"What d'you wanna know?" He was almost salivating over the gold, and Harry could see his hands edging towards it. He gently placed his wand on top of the sack, waiting until the shop keeper met his eyes before speaking.

"Horcrux."

Harry had assumed the word related to some form of Dark Arts. What he hadn't predicted was Borgin's face turning ashen, his hands retreating quickly to his side, one entering his pocket where Harry could tell he was fingering his wand ready to draw it at any time.

"Don' deal wit' stuff like that here," he told Harry quickly who continued on as if Borgin hadn't reacted.

"I want to know what they are, and if you have any books on them."

Borgin merely shook his head furiously, before turning and heading towards the back of the shop. Harry sighed, pulling a larger pouch from his pocket and placing it beside the original. "Three hundred galleons. And not a word of what was mentioned here will be spoken of elsewhere, by either of us."

Harry could see the indecision easily when Borgin froze, turning slowly to look at the money bag before making his way back, muttering darkly under his breath.

* * *

Harry was safely ensconced back in the orphanage, in his own bed, when the letter he'd sent was found my Quirrell. Thankfully the owl had dropped it through the open window to the study earlier on when Quirrell had been in the dungeons and had disappeared since, returning to its post for rest in Diagon Alley.

It showed how aware he was that, as soon as Quirrell walked into the room, he was straight over to the desk where the post lay, wand in hand and casting several detection charms, only one of which Harry recognised, over the bound papers.

It was almost fifteen minutes before he was apparently satisfied that there wasn't any spells on it at which he swiftly unbound the cord with his wand, watching them unwind.

His hand reached first for the letter, before the headline caught his eye and he froze: "Philosopher's Stone Stolen Whilst Kept at Hogwarts: No Comments Made by Ministry." He paused for a moment, staring at the title, confused and shocked, before straightening the letter out with vigour.

Harry already knew what the letter said, so didn't bother focussing on that as it was read: instead he watched the way Quirrell's hands began to tighten, the knuckles turning white the further he read.

It was only once he was finished the letter that he fell to the floor, an agonised scream breaking from his mouth and tears trekking down his cheeks. "You fool! How could someone else have stolen the stone when you failed?"

"What do you want me to do, Master?" Quirrell snivelled, his limbs spasming from the pain.

"I want you to do what you should have done in Hogwarts! Steal the stone! Go and meet this person when they require. Find out how they managed to steal it when you failed and how he knows where we are!"

Harry continued to watch for a while longer, before drifting off to sleep.

The next day, Harry woke to the sound of tapping on his window. Quickly waking, he opened the window and stepped back as the, rather statuesque, eagle owl flew through, settling next to Hedwig who gave it the once over with her amber eyes.

The scroll it offered him was from Draco who regaled him with the details of his shopping trip in France and what he had been doing so far in the holidays at Malfoy Manor, before trying to extract what the 'business' he had declared he had was. The questioning wasn't even subtle, and Harry wondered if he was just doing it to annoy him, when it was impossible for Harry to glare at him until he stopped.

What didn't pass his attention, no matter how subtle Draco tried to be in this regard, was the mention that his father was keen on talking with him. Harry hadn't really expected either Draco or Theo to keep what he'd told him to themselves, the main reason he hadn't told them any more than what he did. It was also the reason he was putting off his stay at their manor until after his meeting with Voldemort: he wanted to know what was happening fully in regards to Voldemort before being questioned by the elder Malfoy.

So he drafted a quick reply, stating merely that Draco sounded like he was having a good time, Harry's holiday was rather mundane, and that he would let him know when he was free to spend some time with him: he made no mention as to his own business, and let him think he had gotten away with Lucius wanting to speak with him.

Done with that, he set out again to Diagon Alley, hoping to buy enough books to last him several weeks. He only had a day before he met with the Dark Lord once more, and, if all went to plan, he didn't know when he'd next have a chance to buy more books.

* * *

I hope too many people don't hate this chapter. I'm trying to keep Harry in character and _realistic_. The Philosopher's Stone was a huge alchemic success, I just can't imagine it being extremely easy to use, especially for a twelve year old, no matter how smart they are.

Let it be known that I hate writing accents. I'm pretty sure Borgin didn't sound like that... '~'

Reviews are appreciated.


	21. Chapter 21

Sorry of the delay again! I've started MMA and it's so awesome! and somehow my first week back was nearly as tiring as any other week will be, even without all the practicals!

Thanks for all the reviews! I hope this chapter will be up to standards and not disappoint, been working up to this point for a while! Also I have never been to Kelsey Park - never been to London either - I've only looked at a few Google pics, so I don't know if there's woods there or not,

Disclaimer: I don't own, if I did Harry would kick ass!

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Chapter Twenty One

Being able to see through Quirrell, or Voldemort's, eyes gave Harry the chance to appreciate the hilarity of their reaction when they arrived at Kelsey Park to find it swarming with muggles, especially as he couldn't kill them whilst he was keeping a low profile.

Perhaps more hilarious was the looks the other visitors were giving him, having come decked in his regular pitch black robes. The children, in fact, were running up and tugging on the back of the material before running away laughing, causing an unconcealed twitch on Quirrell's forehead, and hysterical laughter on Harry's behalf. He had really only meant disillusionments and such like, when he told him to come without any concealments, not in full out wizard robes. He had also demanded that no magic was cast in the park, otherwise he would never receive the stone which, on the run or not, Harry figured was the only thing saving the infuriating preschool children.

He had given specific instructions on where to go in the park, including a one and a half loop around the pond before he was told to head into the empty forested area, away from the screaming kids and chattering parents. It didn't surprise him when Quirrell read the instructions once more, before promptly ignoring the 'loop the pond' order – he had thought he'd try it anyway.

Once he reached the woods, it didn't take him long to notice the scroll pinned to a tree with further instructions.

Harry watched him reading it, through both pairs of eyes, easily seeing the annoyance transforming Quirrell's face into a scowl.

Harry scowled when he saw the pulse of magic expand from him, hitting Harry's form underneath the Invisibility cloak and highlighting him to Voldemort – that was against the terms he had laid down which had included wandless and non-verbal magic, and Harry felt a slight amount of worry that Voldemort would just attack him, despite the fact he had made it clear he would be led to the stone, rather than given it if the arrangement went through.

Finally however Quirrell drew his wand and began to state the vow Harry had spent many hours perfecting from the scroll.

"I, Quirinus Quirrell, with my body also harbouring Lord Voldemort who magic will be tied to my own in this vow, do hereby swear on my magic that no harm shall be done, intentional or otherwise, by Voldemort or myself to the person we are about to discuss a deal in regards to the Philosopher's Stone with, for the period of a week."

It was rather wordy, which had greatly annoyed Harry when he had written it, but he didn't want to leave any loopholes, let Voldemort know before finalizing the vow who it was he was dealing with, or let anyone else walk in and find themselves the recipient of the vow in his place.

It was a relief to Harry when he could see the magic take, a link being created between the two of them. He could tell Quirrell was trying to be discreet about watching the area he was stood in, not wanting to be obvious about the prior use of magic that wasn't part of their deal.

"I'll let you off with the _Homenum Revelio _before the vow, but anything else and you won't see the Philosopher's Stone again," Harry, rather daringly, threatened whilst moving closer to the stationary man.

Before Quirrell could even try to place the voice, Harry pulled the invisibility cloak from his shoulders with one hand, the other clutched around his wand for defence – screw the rules, Harry had a dark lord in front of him and if he had to, he would use his wand and pray his name would be enough for just a warning.

"Potter!" Quirrell snarled, drawing his own wand in an instant, his eyes trying simultaneously to not move from Harry and check the area for anyone else – Harry found it rather comical.

"I wouldn't try anything. Even something like a stunner could knock me over and just the slightest bump will cause you to lose your magic. Besides, you already know I'm the only one here." He motioned to the area around them, in which only the faintest cries from the playgrounds and pond could be heard. "Shall we move on to discussing the deal?"

Quirrell snarled, backing away from him whilst keeping his wand firmly fixed on him, not that Harry expected him to do anything with it. "What deal? You don't have the stone!"

Harry raised an eyebrow, smirking, "Who do you think stole it? Certainly wasn't you."

Quirrell snarled again, but stopped when Voldemort's wheezing voice echoed through the clearing. "Let me speak to him, face to face."

Quirrell cringed, seems he didn't like having a face sticking out the back of his head and having to cater to its whims but he dutifully did as commanded, no doubt having learnt from the excruciating pain inflicted when he does otherwise.

"Harry Potter..." Voldemort's voice sounded frail, but Harry knew he could do more than enough even with his limited strength – he had duelled Dumbledore to get away after all. "See what you have reduced me to?"

Harry made sure his face was blank as he answered. He had seen this image many times before, but never with his own eye: it was much more haunting that he had expected. "I didn't do that to you Voldemort. I don't know what happened that night, but you did it to yourself when you came after my family."

The sneer that crossed Voldemort's face made him several times scarier, and Harry could feel the adrenaline pounding through his veins, his brain begging him to turn and run, not looking back but he forced himself to stand tall, he had come for a reason, and showing weakness wouldn't help him with that.

"So it is my fault I've spent ten years as a mere spirit?" His voice softened after that, "Are you going to avenge your parents, Potter? Make them proud of the _man_ you've become?"

Harry could easily hear the mocking spite in his words, but they just gave him more confidence.

"No, I don't care about my parents. Whether it's been productive that they died or not I can't say for sure, but I wouldn't be the person I am now if they were around."

Voldemort remained speculatively silent for several moments before asking, "So how did you steal the stone, Potter?"

Harry smirked. "I knew when you were trying to steal it and I knew when you failed. When Dumbledore went down to confront you, he disabled all the protections using his blood – an override I guess he made so he could quickly confront anyone down there – and I followed him through each room under the invisibility cloak. When you and him left, duelling, I slipped in and took the stone. Not quite sure why it worked for me not you, but I would speculate, knowing it was Dumbledore that provided that defence, that it was because I didn't want the stone to make myself immortal, I wanted it to barter with and to cause Dumbledore trouble."

He ignored Voldemort's attempt at the raised eyebrow look – it didn't quite work with his face as stretched as it was, coupled with his lack of eyebrows – until he asked the next question.

"So you didn't even try to use it?"

Harry, even with his heart pounding a hundred beats a second, gave him an incredulous look, "Of course I tried. But it's the _Philosopher's Stone_! I may be a child genius as Professor Flitwick says in staff meetings, but you need a good understanding of alchemy to be able to use the stone, which I don't have and would take a few years to learn enough. I figure I may as well do something with it instead of leaving it sitting idle for several years."

"How did you know I was in the school and going after the stone?" Voldemort asked, and Harry realised this was turning into a question and answer session which he didn't really want just now when his heart wasn't going to return to anywhere near it's normal beats per minute when they still hadn't made a deal.

"I'll tell you that after we've made a deal."

The Dark Lord's face scrunched up in aggravation before he calmed, obviously remembering the vow he'd been forced to make. "What do you propose?"

"I give you the Philosopher's Stone to help you get back your own body and return to power; in return you provide the Elixir of Life whenever I ask for some, teach me the Dark Arts and don't kill me."

Voldemort's face looked pensive for many minutes before he asked, "You are aware that the Elixir of Life is an addictive substance if not regulated?"

Harry smirked, "That's why I only want to use it if I haven't achieved my own immortality by a certain point. It's a back up, last resort to maintain my youth, as it's yours for regaining your body."

Harry was almost hyperventilating with anxiety: Voldemort seemed to be seriously considering his offer, he must be desperate to have his own physical form again. He wondered if he should add some more conditions before deciding not to push for too much.

"Very well then. I agree to the terms." With just those words their magic bound to each other's tighter than the loose connections Quirrell had initiated originally. Their magic curled around each other, and Harry couldn't hold a gasp at the way the Dark Lord's magic felt twisting up his spine. He did manage to prevent the whine he wanted to vocalise when the feeling ended, which would have been mortifying.

Harry didn't wait a moment afterwards before giving a shrill whistle. They both waited in silence for several minutes, though Harry could tell Voldemort was getting more and more impatient as the seconds ticked by. Just as Harry was sure he was going to snap something at him, Hedwig soured down to land on the arm Harry offered, once more grasping a blood red stone in her talons.

"Thanks girl," Harry gave her a gentle kiss to the neck as she dropped the stone into his other hand before launching her skywards again, not wanting her to stay around the Dark Lord.

When he turned back to Voldemort, his heartbeat, which had gone back to nearly normal, suddenly skyrocketed with the looks of greed his warped face displayed. Each step closer to the man just made it beat faster, until he was stood in front of him, the hand with the stone outstretched in offer.

Harry hardly noticed the way Quirrell's arm had to bend backwards to take it, but he could most definitely feel Voldemort's magic swarming across the skin that touched his palm, causing a shiver to visibly run up his back. He didn't think Voldemort noticed, his attention was completely focused on the stone.

Harry stood for several minutes, just watching the way Quirrell's hands, still bent backwards in what must have been a painful manipulation, were caressing the stone, Voldemort's face contorted with glee.

Finally he lowered Quirrell's hands back to his side, the stone clenched tightly in the left one as his attention turned back to Harry who felt his back straightening under the penetrating stare that was levelled at him.

"Now you will tell me how you knew I was stealing the stone before we decide on your training." Harry supposed he should get used to orders like this and, in a way, it excited him as it made his realise he was going to be training under the Dark Lord: that the man would give him orders and he would have to follow them – not as a follower, but as a student, something that Harry _knew_ no one else had ever been to the wizard.

No matter the reverence in his head, Harry found himself smirking. "I've known you were in Hogwarts, possessing Quirrell since the opening feast," he almost taunted, his hands reaching up to the black eye patch covering his right eye. "In fact, I've seen every move you made throughout the year."

He pulled the eye patch off just as Voldemort looked ready to curse him, finally revealing the slitted, blood red eye. An exact replica of the two staring down at him.

* * *

So there we are.

Just a note for those who don't know Homenum Revelio is a charm used to detect human presences in the area. I'm pretty sure it doesn't say who it is, just if there's anyone there, but if it does, I'm taking artistic licence with it and making it so it doesn't.

As people may have noticed, updates are every few days now, hopefully this won't stick, but it's looking more likely. Apologies, but I have so much to do in RL, not just writing.

Let me know what you thought!


	22. Chapter 22

Sorry for the long delay, muchness to do in RL. Thank you all for such amazing feedback for the last chapter! Just in case you don't read the end notes, I apologise if anyone seems OOC, I tried my best!

Disclaimer: If I owned HP, it would have been merged with Equus (*evil/fangirl (same thing really) cackle*)

* * *

Chapter Twenty Two

If anyone ever asked Harry what it took to drive a Dark Lord to a minute's stunned silence, Harry would simply tell them: reveal that you have an eye identical to theirs, then say in a semi-mocking voice (wouldn't want them to kill you for complete disrespect) 'I've been watching you.'

In all regards, Harry thought it was a completely understandable reaction, though he didn't appreciate it when his eyelids were prised apart as far as they willingly went and two red eyes stared, entranced, into his own. It was perhaps just as strange as seeing himself for the first time through another's eyes. He realised it was rather lucky the position was merely slightly uncomfortable, not quite registering as pain, otherwise all his work thus far would be useless as the Dark Lord would lose his magic.

He stood still, allowing the inspection to continue, until his other eye spotted the wand discreetly crossing the distance, getting closer to his eye with each second.

He backed off quickly, muttering, obviously irritated, "Need I remind you of the vow, and the consequences of breaking it?"

It seemed he did, as Voldemort quickly shook himself out of the vacant curiosity that had overtaken him for several minutes. Harry was relieved to see him return to his usual sharp state of mind.

"From what you're saying, I take it I can assume that your eye is a direct link to myself?"

Harry nodded, "I've been able to see everything you've done my whole life. It only got interesting after you broke into Gringotts – then everything started to make more sense."

One of Quirrell's arms rose, gently brushing his fringe back, in order to examine the extent that the scar encroached upon his eye. Harry knew himself from many examinations of the tissue during his younger years, that, if the scar was visible across the eye, it would be another centimetre in length, though very thin like the section that cut through his eyebrow.

"Intriguing. Have you had any other symptoms?"

Harry barely had to think the question over: "Yes. If you feel irritated or angry, my scar, and thus my eye, will bleed. Leaves a rather uncomfortable build up of blood behind my patch, and an awful mess." Not to mention the blinding pain.

Harry hardly dared believe it when the Dark Lord chuckled before responding sarcastically, "Well do forgive me Potter, if I had known I was causing you inconvenience I would have made sure to think of nothing but rainbows and unicorns."

Far from reassuring him of Voldemort's current lack of desire to kill him, it merely brought Harry's thoughts back to the slain unicorn in the forbidden forest, and the curse that killing a unicorn brought upon a wizard.

He was about to bring it up, perhaps suggest that he make the Elixir soon, not knowing himself how long Voldemort would have before the curse took effect: however Voldemort had slipped back into his thoughtful stance, one finger idly slipping down Harry's forehead from the top of the barely visible scar, to his eyelid that fluttered as a shiver raced down his spine. He could feel the magic even just in a simple touch.

Harry could barely make out the words he muttered under his breath, his face twisting through confused expressions – as best it could – before he finally gave a surprised gasp and Harry only just made out the word 'horcrux' before a wand was pointed in his face and a blinding light seemed to flash before his eye. It took his several moments to realise that it wasn't in front of his eye, it was his eye: not only his eye but his forehead, and he looked up to Voldemort only to receive confirmation of what he thought.

"You're saying I'm a horcrux?" Harry asked, disbelievingly.

Once again Voldemort snapped out of his stupor, looking both incredulous and vexed at his question.

"You know what a horcrux is?" Once more it was barely above a whisper, but, as even the birds had stopped singing and the wind disappeared as if at the mere mention of the word, Harry had no problems hearing it this time.

He looked away from the piercing glare, wondering if he should perhaps have not mentioned that piece of information for he could easily see Quirrell's hand tightening around his wand, the attached arm twitching as if wanting to once again rise to point directly at his head.

"You mentioned them whilst talking to Quirrell once or twice. Borgin was easy to get the information out of since I was willing to part with a few coins." He couldn't stop himself from looking back at the Dark Lord, his eyes curious and near fanatical, "So am I?"

Voldemort kept his piercing glare fixed on his for several more moments, making Harry use all his determination to not turn his gaze elsewhere.

Finally he gave a slight 'hm', whether of irritation, dismissal or just acknowledgement, Harry didn't know, and turned to begin walking further into the woods.

Harry followed immediately as Voldemort began speaking, not even glancing over his shoulder – not that he needed to, Harry could see Quirrell's drab expression, the wizard's eyes following the steps he took, unnervingly.

"As you are now my... student" Harry struggled to decide whether his voice held loathing or he was merely stating a fact and had struggled to find a word he liked to describe their new situation, "I expect you to learn fast and will not be gentle or kind in the lessons. I already have a good idea of what you can do from last year, so I _will_ know if you're slacking."

He turned, wand pointed at Harry who could see and feel the pulses of magic flowing over him before Voldemort seemed satisfied and he offered one of Quirrell's arms.

"Take hold and make sure you keep a tight grip: I don't want to lose my magic because you couldn't hold on properly."

Before Harry could even question whether they should be apparating if that was a possible outcome, he felt himself being compressed, the air forced from his lungs with none replacing it to the point that he thought he would die of asphyxiation. The very moment that thought occurred, he felt his feet slamming into the ground, only saved from collapsing onto his wobbly knees by his white knuckle grip on the forearm in his hands.

He stumbled when it was roughly forced from his fingers, Voldemort straightening his robes and immediately beginning to walk away as Harry tried to catch his breath again.

He would've missed the glare Voldemort threw back at him before he followed, if not for seeing it in his own eye. It was enough to make him straighten and hasten to catch up with the Dark Lord whom, he finally noticed, was at the bottom of a set of stairs leading to a large, deteriorating manor.

He followed through the doors and down a set of stairs to the left into the dungeons. There were already several cauldrons with different amounts of various potions spread across the room; some Harry had taken notes on as they were made.

He moved over to a bubbling potion that had been started last night and from what he had seen it was a very difficult potion to complete without explosion, what with the high temperatures, delicate stirring cycles and volatile ingredients. The potion was translucent and viscous and every now and then a globule would fly from the cauldron, landing on the floor before quickly changing colour until Harry could barely see the difference between the floor and the droplet. He had missed the title and introduction page when it was made, so was more than eager to listen when Voldemort began to explain what it was.

"This is called the Vertunt potion. It takes on the characteristics of whatever it comes in contact with, the most effective of the many ways to harness the Philosopher's Stone's power. It also has advantages over other potions like this in that it doesn't cause any changes in the substance it comes in contact with."

Harry watched him gently drop the stone into the bubbling concoction, turning it from translucent to blood red in seconds.

"If it takes on the properties surrounding it, why didn't it take on the properties of the cauldron like it did when it touched the floor?" Harry asked, motioning to the small amount of 'liquid rock' still sitting in a globule beside them.

He isn't sure an answer would be offered until Voldemort gives him a wicked smirk and a single word, "Magic."

Harry wondered if the evil cackle he added afterwards was just something Dark Lord's could do naturally, or if he had practised a lot.

Resisting from giving the older man a frustrated glare – he was having trouble controlling his emotions around the Dark Lord, and he had the desire to keep his head as it was – he took a closer look at the cauldron, making sure to keep enough distance so as not to get hit by the bubbling liquid.

"You've put a layer of magic between the potions and the cauldron... is it a ward, shield or just a controlled flow of magic?"

Harry ignored the assessing eyes, waiting for an answer patiently. "It's a spell any good potion master knows, for volatile potions which could be catastrophic from touching even the cauldron or would melt through the pewter and flood over the brewer."

With that he cast a barrier around the cauldron and making his way out of the room again. Harry realised he would have to get used to being left behind and chasing after Voldemort: he had bargained for the Dark Lord's time after all, and he was sure this was more than he normally gave anyone.

"The potion will have to sit for a day before it is ready for the next stage. When it's finished, I'll combine the potion, and a golem, before separating my soul from Quirinus' body. By merging a golem with both the Elixir of Life and a living soul simultaneously, it is enough to create life in the lifeless body, only due to the fact the golem will be a perfect imitation of a human body. This is where you can be of some use Potter. The golem has to be perfect, and to be that, it requires blood. You're going to willingly give some of yours: it'll make my new body the strongest, given the firm connection already formed between us."

Harry wanted to question whether having been told he was giving his blood still made it willing, but, as with the majority of these thoughts, kept it to himself.

They had moved to the next room which was bare, except for the unlit torches along the walls that flared to life as they entered, and a door at the far side, complete unadorned in comparison to the previous ones which had been fanciful.

"The ingredients needed to create a golem are all in here from when I gathered them before the school year," here he glanced at Harry again, no doubt still disbelieving that he had managed to steal the stone when Voldemort himself had failed.

With a wave of his wand, the entrance closed and the other door flew open, jars and bottles levitating themselves out and into the room.

"Sit in the corner and observe, silently. I will motion you forwards and you will take the silver blade offered and place three drops of your blood into the cauldron, no more or less before leaving the circle again," he indicated the circle he was currently creating out of soil, "And you won't disturb any of the lines."

Harry nodded before questioning, "Why is soil used? I thought salt..."

Voldemort, thankfully, didn't look annoyed at his question, replying instantly: "Normally in rituals you would use salt, however when creating a golem, it's best to use soil, as you're creating an empty vessel that has the potential to use magic: that magic is linked to the earth, so using soil makes that link stronger."

Harry was about to ask about the intricate patterns he was beginning to lay on the ground within the circle, however Voldemort snapped, "Quiet!" and Harry sensibly decided to acquiesce to his demand, especially as Voldemort set each container in a smaller circle in the centre of the outer circle before beginning a chant, dipping his finger in a red liquid Harry guessed to be blood, and drawing the outline of a human body before him. This was much too interesting to be interrupting.

* * *

Vertunt – lit. 'they turn'

I suck at rituals, I just make up a whole load of rubbish, and they turn out like nonsense. I'm sure if anyone reading has more of an idea about things like this you'll correct me, but I did the best I could.

I realise Voldie's probably OOC atm, but the way I see it, anyone would be kinda off if you were living as a spirit for a decade, then lived out the back of someone's head. Once he's got his own body back etc. I'm hoping I'll be able to write him more in character (he's a big challenge, never written him before!) I tried my best!


	23. Chapter 23

Thanks for the reviews last chapter as always! This was planned to be out yesterday, but I just couldn't quite finish it before I had to leave for a cosplay pub-crawl ^^

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, if I did, he would probably end up on a leash for Voldie.

* * *

Chapter Twenty Three

Harry wanted to prod the golem they'd created, just to sate his curiosity. It was rather eerie, if he was being honest: it had taken the shape of an average size and weight human, but it's face was merely a smooth head shape, no features or hair, there was no telling genitalia and even the fingers and toes were merely short stumps, barely differentiated from the hand or foot.

He had expected, perhaps being rather uneducated, for it to take on a shape similar to himself after having used his own blood. Turns out magic and science did not correlate, and the effects of his genetic information had no effect.

Quirrell and Voldemort both looked rather worn, and he was quickly led out the doors and up the stairs. Voldemort threw the first door open, informed him it was his room before stalking further down the corridor without a backwards glance.

The room was dark and dusty, something he would have loved to correct with his wand, however with the Trace still in place, he knew that wouldn't be possible, especially as it would give away his position. He wasn't even sure if the trace picked up wandless magic, though his abilities in that had begun to slack over the last few months – he had been able to practise more when he noticed at Hogwarts, so he just hoped they wouldn't get to a point of disrepair before he was back.

Quickly ridding the bed of dust the manual way, he sat up against the headboard, thinking over what would happen the next day once Voldemort regained his body. It wasn't until his hand came up to his mouth to cover a large yawn that he noted how tired he was: a lot had happened in the day, and he had been on his feet for most of it.

He lay down, having stripped to his underwear before getting into bed, as he had no other clothes on him. There were constant noises from outside, and it didn't take him long to realise, no matter how tired he was, he would have trouble getting to sleep: it was his first time sleeping somewhere that wasn't the orphanage or Hogwarts, and the whole house reeked of unease. He settled for watching Voldemort read through tomes until he finally drifted off just as the Dark Lord settled down himself.

* * *

The next morning he surprised himself when, out of all of the thoughts that could have sprung into his mind, the first one was actually 'I'm gonna get grounded when I get back to the orphanage.' The matron was very strict on the children staying out over night if they hadn't arranged it before hand. It didn't worry Harry though, she never grounded anyone for more than a week unless they had got in trouble with the police or such like, and he had easily enough books to read to tide him over for a week. He just hoped it wouldn't be that long, as there were only six days left before the vow Voldemort had taken declaring he wouldn't be harmed would wear off: Harry was hoping at the end of this time they could get down to some practical training. If not, well he would wait until the sixth day, after behaving in his usual withdrawn but polite manner, and shyly request he could be let off of his punishment a day early: asking at the start never worked, she would still be mad, and knowing you wanted that day free would just give her more incentive to keep it unavailable. It hadn't taken him long after being moved to the orphanage, to figure out the best ways to get the matron to do what he wanted.

Caught up in his thoughts, he only noticed Voldemort approaching when the other side of his door became visible. The Dark Lord pushed it open, but didn't move any further in. "Come, we have lots to do."

He followed after Voldemort, pleased he hadn't brought his cane, as he would look rather unkempt hastening after the elder wizard, his cane having to be ignored. He wondered if the use of the term 'we' wasn't a tad ineffective: Harry knew he would most likely be watching and nothing else.

Voldemort watched him silently, allowing Quirrell control as he made a breakfast for them. "For the rest of the week this vow covers, you'll read the texts I give you at your own home: I have important things to do so I can't babysit you all the time."

That was just too much for Harry to let go: "Well, I apologise, My Lord. If I had known how much of a bother I would be, I might have just kept the stone as a memento, not that _I'd_ need it after all."

Voldemort looked absolutely furious at his impertinence, and he could see Quirrell's hands: one grasping a knife and the other the work surface. He dropped the knife, the hand joining the other in gripping the counter and Harry realised he was having to physically hold the shared body back from approaching him. It was the first time he had ever seen Quirrell fighting Voldemort for dominance: and Voldemort didn't look happy with either of them.

"You brat! You're begging me for training and think you can speak to me like that? Quirrell _will _let go soon, and then you'll be begging for release from the pain, Potter!"

Harry walked calmly up to him, staring him in the eyes all the way, not caring he had to bend his neck slightly to keep that eye contact when they were almost chest to chest. "Hit me then, you do it and you'll lose your magic forever. It's easy to see who would lose the most." He almost had a panic attack the moment he finished speaking, but forced himself to keep a straight face: he couldn't lose it now!

Finally Quirrell relented, and one of his hands instantly grasped at the back of his neck, pulling him closer for Voldemort to snarl in his face. However the tenderness and care he put into the move proved that he had recognised that Harry had a point, and it was easy to see, through the fury he was still showing, that he was calming down enough to realise his situation.

"You _will_ learn to respect my authority, child, or, come next week, you will learn humility the hard way."

Deciding he had come this far without death, Harry figured one last push wouldn't hurt, especially if he got what he wanted. "Oh, I'll respect you, but you _will _stop treating me like a burden. I brought you the stone, otherwise you would have had to spend another year at least working on regaining a body," he had heard the discussion with Quirrell several nights back, "I acknowledge your power, you're the Dark Lord, it's impossible not to, but in return I want you to recognise my potential. I'm not going to be modest, I have a lot, and you're going to teach me, whether you're happy about it or not."

Harry didn't realise he felt out of breath, and had stood up on his tiptoes to get closer to Voldemort's face until he finished his rant with a glare before turning swiftly and stalking back to the seat he had vacated minutes earlier. Facing away he didn't see the momentary smirk that crossed Voldemort's face only to be quickly schooled into irritation.

"You will learn your boundaries, Potter," he paused for several moments, enough time for Harry to raise an expectant eyebrow at him. "And I will hold my end of the deal willingly," he finally conceded.

Harry refrained from smirking, merely settling with a blank face and "Good."

It was only when Quirrell turned side on, and he could tell Voldemort couldn't see him, that he wiped the sweat from his brow, 'Bloody hell, I'm trying to get him to kill me!' he mentally chided himself.

* * *

After a silent breakfast, followed by a quick check on the potion, Voldemort led him to the library and began to levitate books down from the shelves to the single table in the room. Harry hardly got a glance at the titles in the pile about ten books high, before they were floating after Voldemort as he exited the room again.

It was only when he was led through the main door that he realised he was being taken back to London already. He opened his mouth to demand otherwise – he wanted to watch him create his new body from the golem and Elixir of Life – but stopped himself before a sound could escape. Even with their deal and the vow, they were walking on tender ground with each other. Part of the deal had been that Voldemort wouldn't kill him, but Harry knew he could just as easily spend hours torturing him on the pretence of lessons without pushing him to death. Or he could get someone else to kill him in his place, though Harry didn't think that would happen: Voldemort took care of his own enemies.

They passed the gates, and the wards Harry could see surrounding them, and immediately Voldemort offered his hand before forcing them both through that incredibly tight straw once more. Harry wondered what sort of trick he used in that the levitating books followed them without either of them touching the pile.

They appeared where they'd left, Voldemort pushing the pile of books at him and saying, without even a glance at him, "I'll pick you up from here again in a week. Be ready."

And without another word, he disappeared again, just as silently as he'd always made his apparitions.

* * *

By the time Harry got back to the orphanage, he was rather frustrated. Getting a bus back had been easy, and he had made sure to take enough money with him when he had set out yesterday. What had annoyed him though, was the towering pile of old books he had to sit on his lap and keep from collapsing into the person in front, whilst simultaneously being pressed against the window by the gossiping woman in her late thirties talking to the person in front. He had almost missed his stop when she just wouldn't shut up!

So when he finally walked through the doors, he forced himself to calm, especially when he heard the footsteps easily distinguished as Mrs Port – no one else had the ever so slight figure she did, coupled with the heeled shoes she had worn every day since he arrived at the orphanage – storming her way towards him.

"Harry Potter! Just where have you been?" she demanded, and he did his best to look chastised.

"Sorry Mrs Port. I was coming back from the library yesterday when I ran into a friend from school. I had no idea he even lived nearby. We went to his house for tea and by the time I realised I should get home it was too dark and his mum didn't have a car to drive. I would've called, but you changed the phone number while I was away for school, and I still can't remember it yet. So this morning they were going to give me a lift back and explain, but Theo had a doctor's appointment today, so they just dropped me off along the road and had to leave straight away. I really am sorry Mrs Port." Harry reeled off his concocted plot, complete with apologetic looks.

Her temper seemed to calm slightly, Harry knew she trusted him more than she should for an eleven year old, however he knew it wouldn't stop the punishment he would get.

"Be that as it may Harry, you still had us all worried! You're grounded until Wednesday!" Being a Saturday today, Harry found that was fair enough, though made sure to look upset about it. It really showed how much she favoured him, as any of the other children would have found themselves stuck within the orphanage walls until the next weekend – though the ones that disappeared for the night generally didn't have as good a cover story as his – false – one, and they also generally returned in the back of a police car.

"Now off to your room Harry!" she demanded as she began walking to the kitchens.

Harry nodded, keeping his head down until she was out of sight. He would have to plan his next disappearance better: maybe a letter to Theo would be best.

* * *

Okay, so not huge amounts of development, but I'm trying to get the feel of Voldie, he's a hell of a lot harder for me to write than I thought he would be!

I hope people like how Harry is reacting, but let me explain just in case. Harry reveres Voldemort greatly, but he will fight him if he thinks he's being sold short in any way. I just don't think he would sit down and take being underestimated, not when it comes to Voldemort and training. Other times he might, especially when it's to his advantage with teachers etc. but not with Voldie.


	24. Chapter 24

Thanks for all the feedback you wonderful readers continuously send. Whether you de-lurkify to send something, review every time, or have just caught up on the fic and, god bless you, reviewed every chapter you read! Thank you for taking me passed 400!

Disclaimer: If I owned Harry Potter, I would probably be older than I am, and much richer.

* * *

Chapter Twenty Four

Even with the books Voldemort had demanded he read over the week, Harry found it passed agonisingly slowly.

By the Monday, after getting halfway through the second book out of ten, he found that it covered almost the exact same information as the first, just worded differently with small variations in each chapter.

By Wednesday, not only had the next two books been the same, but he was beginning to regret making the vow with Voldemort cover such a long period. Even with the possibility of death if things hadn't gone his way, he could've managed with less than a week before Voldemort was able to harm him again, especially as the man was in hiding and most likely wouldn't risk exposure.

By this point the rest of the children in the orphanage had caught onto his punishment, easy to notice by the constant sneers, mocking laughter and occasional shove. He ignored it, knowing that it was his last day stuck within the four walls constantly, and that getting angry would just cause his magic to fluctuate and the possible consequences of that weren't good: he didn't want to give the Ministry any reason to keep an eye on him, especially as he would be disappearing for a while soon.

Theo had graciously complied with his request, writing out a letter to Mrs Port, pretending to be his father and asking Harry to stay for three weeks – he planned to visit Draco after this time, but could easily extend his time if Voldemort demanded it. Harry didn't think he would, with the aggravation he'd shown thus far at the thought of having to train Harry.

Once ungrounded, and already having books to keep him busy, Harry started spending his days in the nearby park, hidden mostly from view in a copse of oak. Reading the seventh book he had been left, Harry understood the importance of comprehending the theory of basic Dark Arts, however reading almost identical books on the subject was rather pointless in his opinion. However, the thought that Voldemort surely knew better, being the Dark Lord, kept his going, rather than putting the books aside and pulling his own books back out.

Finally, the eighth book moved from the theory area of the Dark Arts to history, and the role the magic played in shaping modern Wizarding Britain. It was interesting to see that it was only in the past century or so that Dark Arts had truly been associated with evil. Before then duels with the Dark Arts had been a common way to settle disputes over land and possession, just about always to the death, and organised tournaments were held frequently for those in high places, a way to determine the 'strongest in the land'. All in all, it hadn't been too discreet and had eventually caused the current state of affairs in which Muggles were to be respected, but contact with them, for the majority of wizards, was scarce. The exception being muggleborns who kept a foot on both sides. It was this exception that was the main cause of the spread of muggle traditions in the place of those that had been in the wizarding world for centuries. For a community that was still, in most regards, stuck in the nineteenth century at best, there had been huge amounts of change over the past fifty years, and, being able to see parts of it from the book, Harry could easily see why the traditionalists were unhappy with the current government and continuously pushed for change – or so Draco and Theo had told him.

It had been a welcome relief to have the history book – though a depressing read - as the remaining ones were continuous theory books. Harry wondered why Voldemort even had so many beginner's theory books, especially as they all said the same thing, and finally decided that he probably hadn't read them all himself, and had them for the sake of hoarding and protecting them from anyone who might destroy them rather than for any intellectual reason.

* * *

By the time the week had passed, Harry had only just managed to convince Mrs Port to let him meet up with 'Theo' on his own, saying they were going shopping in London first and he would just take the underground. However she had demanded to drive him to the station, so, after waving goodbye to her from the train as it left, he carried on to the next station before heading back the way he came and taking a bus back to Kelsey Park. By the time he reached the wooded area that he had originally revealed himself to Voldemort in, just over a week ago, it was just after noon. As Voldemort hadn't specified what time they would meet at, Harry settled himself down beside a tree and started reading one of his own books. As per usual, whilst reading, Harry lost track of time as he flicked through the pages, happy to be learning something new rather than repetitive Dark Arts theory.

It was almost three o' clock – not that Harry noticed – when he was finally disturbed by the appearance of a powerful magical aura several meters away. His grip on his wand tightened instinctively, particularly as the vow stopping him from being harmed was now out of play and he only had assurance he wouldn't die, otherwise Voldemort would forfeit his magic.

He was fully prepared to dodge any curses that came his way, in retribution for his actions last time they had met, however Voldemort merely glanced at him and the book closed beside him.

"You had better have finished the books I gave you, brat, if you're reading others!"

Harry almost let out a sigh of relief, but held it back as – now that the potential danger had passed – he had the chance to examine the new body Voldemort inhabited.

It wasn't at all like Harry had expected. He was tall, which just seemed _right_, even though when possessing Quirrell he had shared the defence teacher's average height. It seemed to add to the powerful air that surrounded him. His body was lithe, more so that Harry had predicted, yet not near the point of looking ill – lithe was the perfect word to describe him. An arm moved up to brush hair from his face, and Harry watched the sinfully long, elegant fingers brush through the locks, leading him to examine the face the Dark Lord had taken on.

It was framed by dark brown locks that surrounded his ears – in a style not enough to be called curly but just slightly passed wavy. His nose had fleshed out from a flat plane into an elegantly sloped ridge that led straight to a pair of, currently smirking, pale pink lips. It had been hard imagining the shape his face would take, after seeing his features expressed on the back of a head, stretched to the point of mutation. As it turned out, his facial features were refined, similar to the Malfoys' but with more angle to it, giving him just that edge away from aristocratic towards intimidating.

The last feature Harry examined was his eyes that were now framed by sleek, curved eyebrows. Most people would have said that there was no difference as they eyes remained the blood red colour he was so familiar with, particularly after living with it reflected in his own eye for so long. However in this new body the eyes sparkled with intensity and shone with power. It was the eyes that really reflected the change in Voldemort: where once he had been hanging onto life, relying on others at merely a fraction of his strength, now he was rejuvenated, independent and ready to stand toe-to-toe with the strongest once again.

Finally he chanced a looked at him overall. The body looked to be in its late twenties, though Harry knew Voldemort had to be at least forty years old. He could only guess his young blood had affected the process as he hadn't witnessed the final ritual, nor did he know enough about runes to be able to interpret the properties of those used in the creation of the golem.

He finally shook himself out of his examining, and rather appreciative, stare and replied to Voldemort's previous statement, giving no indication there had been more than a minutes gap since he had spoken.

"Of course I've read the others books. Have you? Nine of the books you gave me said exactly the same thing!"

Harry retracted his original thought that Voldemort had unknowingly done this at the arrogant smirk that appeared on the Dark Lord's face as he rose an eyebrow.

"Really?" he asked, hardly attempting to ensure the air of surprise sounded honest. "And you still read them all?"

"It pays to be thorough," was all Harry said in return. He expected Voldemort to give him a snarky reply, but, when nothing came, he could only assume the sentence had reminded him of his failure to procure the Philosopher's Stone himself. Harry knew he couldn't have succeeded with the mirror unless he knew how to bypass the defence, but he wasn't going to waste any sympathetic words on the wizard, it would be pointless.

The minor sulking session, as Harry referred to it in his head, didn't last long and a few seconds later he was gripping the Dark Lord's arm as they forced their way through space in an instant. Harry was thankful he'd sent Hedwig ahead, no doubt she would have kicked up a fuss if she was forced to travel in such a way – she really could be rather difficult sometimes.

* * *

In the visual spectrum of light, the manor looked exactly the same it had last time he was there, but looking at the magic flowing around the buildings, he could easily see how much the wards had been fortified since then. Where they had previously been resilient, but old and gradually decaying, they were now bright and strong, flowing and pulsing around the residence with fresh and powerful magic.

As they stepped through them, Harry's eyes became lidded and a shiver made its way down his back at the warmth washing over him. It was because of this that he barely noticed the bright spell flying at him, only just managing to throw himself into a tight roll, having to continue it when spells hit the ground just behind him where he would have stopped.

There was a brief pause and he flipped himself up to face Voldemort, his holly wand releasing itself from his wand holster.

"Show me what you know, Potter. I want to see your duelling skills for myself."

Harry dodged the violet light with a hop, "The wards will stop the ministry picking up on me casting magic?" he yelled back.

His answer was a short affirmation, followed by a Crucio he barely avoided.

That was all it took for him to throw himself into the fight completely.

* * *

As you can see, I cannot resist the lure of a sexy Voldie! Though even in serpentine form he's god damn hot. What can I say? Snakes are sexy!

In reference to the books, when learning how to divide, you don't jump straight away to long division, you start by splitting pie into equal pieces and such like. In my mind, dark arts would be the same thing: background and understanding is needed first so, as much as people (myself included) want to see Harry learn some kick-ass spells, he's had to learn the concepts behind it first.


	25. Chapter 25

Kyah! So sorry this has taken so long, however I have extremely valid reasons!

Firstly, D-Con was last weekend, and I spent the last two weeks on the run up to it working almost constantly on my outfit! It was such a good weekend though, so much fun and so much anime merch to buy! Now I'm very happy in my bishi-ful room!

Secondly, I've had lab reports to do – sucks, I know!

Thirdly, I've been trying to sort out accommodation for uni next year. Unfortunately I got rejected from my application in halls, so have had to reapply to another hall which is £3000 more expensive – and absolute joke! And, unfortunately renting privately isn't any cheaper!

Fourthly I just rewatched the first one and a half series of code geass, and finally finished the second series (crying my eyes out and causing myself to have an asthma attack - classy, I know). Been in a funk since then :(

So, yes, much has been happening, thus little time to write! Hopefully this chapter will partially make up for it!

Disclaimer: If I owned Harry Potter, I would be rich, and able to buy myself a house in St. A's, thus not having to worry about ending up living out of a cardboard box next year :'(  
Hopefully it won't come to that!

* * *

Chapter Twenty Five

Voldemort, Harry reflected after their impromptu duel, was very different from Flitwick. He could still feel the excruciating pain he had been submitted to with each failed dodge or lacklustre shield. The way his muscles felt as if they were stretched passed breaking point whilst being simultaneously on fire and in ice. The pain was more than he'd expected, but wasn't what had surprised him. He could easily admit that he never wanted to get hit again after experiencing each different curse, the residual pain assuring him of that, but the way the magic flowed through him, saturated with intoxicating Darkness, Harry had to wonder if there wasn't something quite wrong with him: that, through the pain, something inside of him also enjoyed the experience.

He didn't even want to acknowledge that thought.

And so, after their first battle – with Harry trying his best to conceal his trembling muscles after one too many curses, and Voldemort hardly trying to hide his smirk – he had been led to the manor and Quirrell, whom Harry was surprised to find still alive – he guessed Voldemort did reward those who were helpful to him – brought them dinner then sat quietly at the table, not looking at either of them.

He wondered what they would be doing the next day, knowing that his first duel had been only a test to see how well he could perform just now. Voldemort stood the moment he finished, ordering Harry to follow and leading them both through to a study where they took up residence in, surprisingly, comfortable chairs surrounding the fire in the room, rather than opposite each other at the desk like Harry expected, to show the divide between them.

"You will spend your mornings reading which ever book I assign in here, in silence whilst I work on other, important projects," Harry was sure he wanted to say 'more important projects' but had held back from blatantly scorning him, it was rather surprising to see they were both attempting to not cause any altercations between them, "and then the afternoon practising the spells you learn until I join you for a duel. Meals will be whenever Quirrell announces them and I expect you to attend each of them and be able to discuss what you've learnt. If you can't then there will be a price: I do not stand for any less than the best."

Voldemort gave a dismissive gesture, and Harry stood, though he didn't leave just yet, one question weighing on his mind. "What about Quirrell, where does he stand? From his behaviour after your separation, I would say his services thus far haven't been exactly willing… Will he be a risk at all?"

Voldemort smirked at him, "You are rather Slytherin for a Ravenclaw Potter, always looking after your own interests first. I find it… disappointing that you think I would not be able to keep a firm control over any of my followers." His tone turned cooler at this, not quite icy, and Harry wondered if he was, yet again, overstepping whatever boundaries the Dark Lord had laid down for him.

"But it is understandable, that you feel concerned, you have rather a lot on the line, Potter. Sit down," Harry did, never mind that he had just stood up on order to leave, "Let us discuss the future."

The predatory gleam in his eyes gave Harry pause, but he swallowed forcefully and waited for the coming discussion, not quite sure why he was so tense.

A flick of Voldemort's wand made him jump and he felt a slight red blush crossing his face in embarrassment for showing his apprehension so blatantly, particularly when Voldemort chuckled. However at present he still felt wary whenever the Dark Lord armed himself, unexpectedly.

There was a minute of steep silence that Voldemort seemed content to sit through, watching Harry, whilst Harry felt each muscle in his body start to tense, methodically moving up from his feet.

The door, which he only just realised was directly behind him in his blind spot, opened with a creak and he could only just pick up Quirrell murmuring something as he entered, placing a set of tea on the table between them with shaky hands that Harry watched carefully, in case they would send the scalding water over his lap.

Immediately after placing the set, Quirrell stumbled out the door with a glare from Voldemort following him. Their tea poured itself with a wave of Voldemort's hand before he grasped it when it approached.

Watching Voldemort take a sip of his own before sitting back, Harry eyed the swirling brown depths, extremely cautious as to what he was willing to consume. During dinner he had been able to cast a detection charm discreetly, though chances were Voldemort still noticed: with the man watching his every move from opposite him, Harry wasn't sure what he should do. Having already discussed his self-interest briefly minutes previously, Harry hoped Voldemort wouldn't take great offense at his suspicion.

He flicked his wand out, looking Voldemort, who looked humoured at his action, in the eye. "May I?"

Voldemort smiled, which was more disturbing that any smirk he had seen so far. "Of course Harry. If you feel your security is in question, by all means."

It was obvious from his response that this was another challenge for him, to see how he would react and if he was willing to trust Voldemort.

Casting his detection spell the first items that were appeared were as expected: tea, water, milk, sugar. It was the final one he had been looking for but, if honest, hadn't expected: Veritaserum.

Looking up at Voldemort again shrewdly only to find Voldemort still staring at him intensely, waiting for his next action.

Slowly, keeping his eye on Voldemort, the other watching his own movements, he raised the cup to his lips and took a large sip, ignoring Voldemort's raised eyebrow.

"Why did you drink it?" Voldemort demanded, a look of curiosity crossing his face.

Harry felt the words slipping out his mouth without even a conscious thought as to how he would answer.

"I don't trust you, that was why I cast the spell, but, even without trust, there needs to be an understanding between us. I am the student and I know that, therefore you need to have some amount of authority over me, no matter how much I loathe that thought."

Voldemort smirked, and Harry could tell he was _extremely _pleased with his response. "So you acknowledge me as your superior?"

Harry felt a smirk wanting to cross his vacant expression already knowing how he would respond, however with the potion's effect, his face remained blank.

"No, you are my teacher: that's different from superior."

Harry watched Voldemort frown, however thankfully it was thoughtful rather than incensed.

"Then how would you consider us in regards to each other, other than a teacher and student?"

Harry watched his own face twist slightly in thought, that was something he hadn't considered: what other form did their relationship take – what would it become once he had learnt all he could and was on longer that student?

"I would base my answer to that on the future; on what I aim to be, an… equal. To hold the sort of power you do, to be able to send shivers down any dark wizard's spine with just the slightest touch of magic, to be able to make enemies quiver before cutting them down. The wizarding world is wrong, the amount of influence muggles hold, the destructive change they wrought upon our society – so much has gone wrong and I don't think that one man, no matter how powerful or what backing he has, can fix the problem alone, nor should he have to. I don't want to surpass you: how would fighting amongst ourselves help promote the dark arts and force change in society? It wouldn't. I want to be strong enough and smart enough to be able to make a difference in the war, working alongside you and your Death Eaters. However, I could never be content with myself working under you. Independence is the most important thing to me: whether I get to the point where I can call myself your equal or not, as long as I don't have to rely on other people to survive, then all else is irrelevant."

Harry decided he must have been more shocked at his own answer than Voldemort, given the elder wizard's almost simplistic thoughtfulness in relation to his own surprise. He had always revered the Dark Lord and the amount of power he held, perhaps most particularly when seeing him surviving as little more than a parasite on Quirrell's head as, despite his weakness, it showed his prowess in that he had endure that long. However he had never realised that his reverence had turned into a desire to equal that strength and be able to cause such drastic change to the wizarding world. People had always told him he would go far: he wondered if that was what they were meaning.

He would have pondered further on his thoughts, but Voldemort gave a quiet 'hm' before glancing curiously at him.

"Come over here, Harry."

Harry stood, doing as he was requested whilst mentally cataloguing the use of his given name again.

He stopped a foot from where Voldemort sat, not sure where he was meant to be but Voldemort simply tugged him closer by his wrist before letting that go in favour of placing a hand around his neck to pull his face down.

Bent over at an awkward angle, Harry had to fight to keep his balance and save himself from an embarrassing collapse into the Dark Lord's lap.

"You might want to kneel," Voldemort suggested off-handedly, pulling Harry's face closer to his own.

As gracefully as possible, Harry dropped from a crouch to his knees, rather uncomfortably as he was pressed against the base of the chair between either of Voldemort's legs: he rather hoped whatever this was wouldn't take long.

Finally the incessant tugging on his neck stopped, leaving only an inch separation between their faces, so that he could easily feel Voldemort's warm breath against his own lips.

He could hardly stop his eyes roving over the Dark Lord's face, taking in the fine structure and flawless skin only really appreciable at such a close distance.

His heart beat spiked, though he wasn't sure why, at the feel of one of Voldemort's hands on his cheek and quickly his cheeks began to heat up.

If he noticed, Voldemort didn't mention it as he was staring intently into Harry's own eyes.

It was only a split second's worth of time, from the increase of his heart rate, to the moment Voldemort spoke next, but Harry was sure something would happen, he would be called out – on what though, he didn't quite understand.

However his focus was brought to Voldemort's own eyes when the man sharing his personal space said, irritably, "Keep your eyes on me, Potter. It's hard enough to try and understand this eye without it moving every other direction!"

* * *

Sorry if that last part seemed a bit amateurish or anything, it just came out like that on its own.

And, just to reinforce this: I don't plan for any slash to be happening soon, probably about year four – hopefully! XD

I also don't like Harry's monologue about equals, seemed tacky... but I'm often very self-critical.

Once again, I apologise for how long this chapter took, but, alas, fanfiction must sometimes take backseat to other issues, as explained above.

Let me know what you thought!


	26. Chapter 26

Okay, so it's been a while. I have many valid excuses, but all I will say here is: I got lost on the path of life.

In regards to this chapter, I don't like it, but it's necessary. And it's also to help me get back in the writing mood.

As a warning, don't expect chapters to come any quicker now, though it's possible. For some reason (procrastination) I get more into writing as exams approach (thus this story was originally started), so it's possible that more chapters will be following quickly, but not definite. There's also the fact that this segment of the fic hasn't been greatly planned. I know what's coming later - to a degree - but this bit is as it comes - thus most likely OOC, one of the many reasons this chapter took so long.

Thanks to all the readers who reviewed, you make my day! And I had my first foreign review, well, I hope it was foreign - not to be rude or anything, but some people's English is absolutely dreadful! So, even though i didn't understand it, thank you very much! :D

Disclaimer: If I owned HP, my bank account would not be suffering because I just spent £300 on anime canvases (But they're so good!)

* * *

Chapter Twenty Six

By the time Voldemort finished examining his eye, having been casting spells directed at it for nearly fifteen minutes non-stop, it felt tingly, teary and slightly swollen. He could only assume it wasn't an impressive sight if Voldemort's grimace was any indication as he sat back in his seat, finally releasing his grasp on Harry's cheek.

Of course, his annoyance could simply be attributed to the fact that he hadn't been able to understand the link that they shared to the degree he wanted to.

Harry shifted as Voldemort sat back, his fingers steepled and a contemplative expression on his face. When he wasn't demanded to stay where he was – it was damn uncomfortable – he pushed up with his feet, ignoring the pins and needles from having been leant on for so long, and moved back to his original seat to wait until Voldemort was ready to explain what he had discovered to him, if he would.

When he simply continued thinking, Harry began to look around the room to see what else it contained than the fire, chairs and desk he'd noted on his first glance around the room – not having taken much more in due to his considerably higher state of concern at the time. Taking the time to observe his surroundings now, Harry realised that wasn't actually that much more to see. The room was elegant in its simplicity. The only other feature was the bookcase that spanned the entirety of the opposite wall. Harry had expected more change from what it had looked like before Voldemort's resurection, yet the only difference was that the shelves which had been nearly empty before were now almost full with volumes of books. Harry couldn't remember him collecting them, but Voldemort had been staying awake through the night whilst Harry slept, who knew how he had made use of the time unobserved.

"As you have presumed," Voldemort started suddenly, drawing Harry's attention back to the wizard opposite him, "you have inadvertently become one of my horcruxes. Being a wizard yourself, your magic has slightly altered the original magic, most likely at the time the horcrux was formed, and it's linked our magic much more tightly than normal. However the bond seems completely one sided at present, we'll have to work to see if it can be reversed as well."

Harry didn't even suggest that they leave the bond as it was, the Dark Lord wouldn't let such an advantage go untapped. Instead he focused on the earlier part: "what do you mean when you say 'altered the original magic'?" he asked curiously.

Voldemort nodded at the question before answering, "Horcruxes are meant to be created using inanimate objects, or at least non-magical beings. When a wizard is used, the results, from what i presume, depend on their own magical prowess. Most wizards would be killed by the intrusion of another's soul into their own. It's safe to assume that your young age, developing magic and surprisingly high power resulted in the soul fragment becoming more closely entwined with your own soul – not quite merged, but no longer separate pieces either."

Harry nodded slowly, trying to acknowledge the fact that, not only did he had a fraction of Voldemort's soul in him – he had figured that out a while back – but it was just as much a part of him as his own soul was.

"If it's that... entwined with my own, does that mean... What does that mean?" he asked, cautiously.

Voldemort's face took on a serious look, "The process can't be reversed without destroying the fraction of soul and, in the process, you. Even if I wasn't forced by vow, I can't kill you Potter, I have, what you might call, a vested interest in you." The way he said it made Harry question whether that was what he really wanted.

To move his thoughts away from the horrors to come he decided to delve deeper into the actual bond. "Did you find out how the magic has actually formed the bond from my eyes to yours?"

"Yes, I did," he paused and for several seconds it seemed no more on the subject would be said before Voldemort sat back again in his chair and steepled his fingers, observing Harry over them. "What do you know of mind magics?"

Harry blinked, "not much," he hadn't had much reason to look them up yet, besides to learn the basics. "There's Legilimency and Occlumency – offense and defence. Other than that..." he shrugged.

Voldemort 'hm'd. "You'll start studying Occlumency while you're here. Dumbledore is a very accomplished Legilimens, and untrained minds wouldn't be able to detect his intrusion into the mind."

The thought startled Harry, not having even considered the headmaster probing his thoughts freely. "How do we know he hadn't already?" he asked, trying to keep the quivers from his voice.

"You can't for sure, however I would think that the fragment of my soul in you would let you know – that small fraction of you is a master of Occlumency, hopefully that'll make it easier for you to learn."

Voldemort picked up the cup he had placed aside many minutes ago and tapping it with his wand before taking another sip and continuing.

"Occlumency and Legilimency are the two main branches of mind magic, however there are many smaller ones, usually categorised within the two well known areas. The area of interest just now is Misceomens: the art of blending minds. There's also the art of possession and many more areas. However, on the topic at hand, even I can't be sure how it happened, but when the Avada Kedavra curse was rebounded from yourself onto me we were linked for barely a fraction of a second, both with our minds forced wide open and, as part of my soul was transferred into you, your magic somehow established one half of a misceomen bond between the two of us. It most likely occurred in response to the new soul joining your own, to continue contact with the original body. It is possible the fragment _needed_ to interact with the rest of my soul, like a human offspring with their parent, or it could have just been an opportunistic move on the fragment's behalf, to keep awareness of what was happening with it's original creator."

Harry cringed, unable to stop the look showing on his face, he verbalised his thoughts at Voldemort's raised eyebrow. "You make it sound... as if I'm carrying your child," he shivered once more at the though.

Voldemort's insane cackled didn't help settle his disturbing thoughts at all. Instead it sent the hairs on the back of his neck shooting up on end.

The laughter stopped abruptly, however the wicked grin remained on the Dark Lord's lips as he responded to Harry's statement. "No Harry, it's not my _child_ you're carrying: it's _me_, my immortality and future. Or a part of it at least." His smirk only widened. "And that's why you won't be leaving here until I know you'll be able to protect yourself and, by extension, me."

All Harry could do was gulp as he stood, trailing after Voldemort as he left the room.

* * *

The room Voldemort left him in was barely recognisable from the dust-ridden space it was before. In the week since his first visit, it had been cleaned thoroughly so that the original dark tones were visible where previously a thick layer of dust had dulled them. There was also a desk and bookcase filled with texts that he assumed he would be reading over the course of his stay. The bag he had left in the entrance hall on his arrival was set at the end of his bed. He casually shrugged off his clothes and pulled his sleepwear from the bag. Just as he finished redressing, a tapping from the window drew his attention to the white owl who met his eye before flying off again.

Harry wondered if he was the only wizard with an owl that felt the need to check in on him before heading out on her hunt. Pushing aside the exasperation, he chuckled and pushed the window open so that she could get in later before heading to bed. Unlike his last time, he fell asleep quickly, the earlier duel having sucked the energy from his very bones.

* * *

His first sight the next morning was a patch of white above him. Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, he chuckled, seeing that Hedwig had forgone her stand and spent the night resting on the headboard of his bed. Once he was dressed for the day she relocated herself to his right shoulder, giving him a nip on the ear at his chuckles before tucking her head under her wing.

Seeing that Voldemort was at work in his study, Harry made his way over, noting that, whilst the sun had risen, it wasn't high, so it was still early.

He knocked twice on the door and, when Voldemort gave it nothing more than an irratated glance, entered. "Glaring at doors never makes the problem go away," he quipped at the man.

The next glare was aimed at him and Harry was amused to see Hedwig sending her own right back.

"Quirrell's in the kitchen, go bother him for breakfast, it's too early to deal with you."

Harry turned quickly to hide his smirk and left the room to find sustenance.

* * *

When he returned to the room almost half an hour later, Harry could only see a small physical change, but the waves of magic surrounding the Dark Lord – which had been like a turbulent storm earlier – had settled down to soothing waves. He tried not to smirk, taking in the empty mug and distinct coffee smell. 'Would've though he'd be a tea drinker really," Harry mused as Voldemort finished scribbling on a sheet of parchment and placed his quill aside to look up at him.

A book left its place on the shelf and flew to where Harry stood waiting. Checking the title before accepting it – he had learnt to do so after the previous week – and was content that it differed from the previous subject matter he had been told to learn. The book was titled 'Practical Dark Arts for the Novice' and Harry, after having read repetitive warnings the week prior about jumping too far into the dark arts, too soon, felt this was the best level to start at.

As he began to read through the first chapter, sitting in a chair by the empty fire place, facing towards Voldemort who had returned to his work, he gave a mental smirk.

'Start with the basics, and work from there,' he told himself, 'it's not like it's going to take long.' Half an hour later he was already pacing through the fifth chapter.

* * *

**Misceomens – to blend minds. Correct me/give me alternatives if I'm wrong - I use online translators, not any actual knowledge of the language.**

Let me know what you think - particularly of characterisation as it's what made this chapter a b**** to write!


	27. Chapter 27

I know it's been a long time, and the only excuse I can give you is that I've had no inspiration to write this. Instead I've been working on some Eyeshield 21 one-shots/drabbles, and am going to continue with them alongside hopefully getting more of this written. I have the next two chapters done, and will post one a week to hopefully not burn me out like I did when I started publishing this story.

In regards to this chapter, there's a time skip. I apologise once more if people dislike them, but I tried SO hard to write more of the Voldie/Harry summer but firstly, I just couldn't make it interesting, and secondly, that was the reason my inspiration kept on dying. So I decided to leave it and move forward, if necessary I'll refer to it later, but for now I'll leave you (and me) guessing as to what went on.

Disclaimer: I own nothing. If I did, the £1000 increase in the price of my flights to Japan wouldn't have been an issue for me. Alas, it was.

* * *

Eye of the Beholder - Chapter Twenty Seven

Diagon Alley was heaving as the four of them stepped out of Gringotts. Harry had been staying with Draco for the past few weeks, along with Theo who was discreetly trying to find out where he had been previous to that, that had required for him to pretend he had been staying at Nott Manor. So far Harry had told him nothing more than he had been staying with 'a friend', and both of them knew Harry wouldn't reveal any more until he desired to.

Staying at Malfoy Manor had been like going on holiday for the first time in his life, albeit with two slightly obnoxious blondes who constantly tried to force him away from his books – that they didn't give up even with the strong stinging hexes he had started shooting their way, having Mr Malfoy's assurance they were free to perform magic on the premisis, was a testament to how enthusiastic they were to spend time with him: he shuddered when the word 'endeering' came to mind.

Still, it had been rather a surprise to see them both acting so childish in front of their parents. He had thought their actions at the station were a better reflection of their home lives, but it turns out that was just for the public's eyes, like this trip to Diagon Alley for their school supplies. He was sure the three of them, with Lucius overseeing the outting, would feature at some point in the Daily Prophet which had taken a shine to them in the few excursion that the newspaper caught wind of. Harry didn't doubt that the opinion on them would have been different if he hadn't been with them, he had learnt over the summer that the wizarding world was rather fickle and easily swayed. Mr Malfoy was known to many as a dark wizard – not that they had proof, of course – yet he was held in high esteem by the vast majority due to his ever increasing wealth and strong influence in the ministry.

* * *

The three Hogwarts students entered Flourish and Blotts a while later reluctantly: Draco and Theo from the knowledge that Harry would no doubt spend a good hour or more deciding which books to pick, then be inseperable from them for the remainder of the holidays; and Harry because of the vast numbers of people that were cramming their way into the store, with little regard for each other or the books that were being damaged by their blundering movements.

From all sides Harry could see the smiling and winking face of Gilderoy Lockhart, with stacks of his books, the new autobiography at the foremost of the piles. With a little force he made his way to the stairs on the left, hoping to escape the crowds and begin choosing a new collection of books to peruse until he returned to Hogwarts, and her rather expansive – though only in certain areas – library.

He was halfway to safety when he heard his name exclaimed from the front of the room, and suddenly hands were grasping him, pulling him forcefully backwards down the stairs before he could steady himself and brush them away. In barely seconds he was standing in front of the crowd of sighing middle-aged women and a seedy looking photographer instructing him to smile or shake hands with Lockhart as the blonde placed one on his shoulder, holding him in place even as he made to move away further.

Lockhart began to speak to the gushing crowds, and it was only because Harry's attention was drawn to Lucius, who had placed on hand on the photographer, exchanged a few lines which had the man paling and quickly lowering the camera, that he was caught off guard when a stack of books was pushed into his arms forcefully, almost causing him to stagger.

He looked back to see Lockhart's face beaming down at him, then down at the pile to see a similar image. He made sure to keep his feet out of the way as he dropped the stack to the floor with little care.

Looking back at the blond ponce, he kept his face carefully masked of the disdain that desperately wanted to be expressed towards to affronted man. "I apologise, Mr Lockhart. I don't read crap."

It was much easier to move through the silent and glaring crowds than it had been before, particularly when Lucius appeared at his side and placed a guiding hand on his shoulder.

He was contently ensconced in the Transfigurations section when he finally heard the first outraged shriek from the floor below.

It wasn't much longer after that when he was approached by a nervous looking employee who informed him that Lockhart had 'graciously' forgiven his actions and offered him another chance at having his picture taken with him for the Daily Prophet.

Harry declined the offer without a thought, and asked the employee to remind the manager just how much he spent in the shop and inform him that he would go elsewhere for his books if it was likely he would be hassled in such a way upon entering the shop in the future. As the young worker was stumbling away, Harry added a request that the Daily Prophet worker come see him whilst he was in the store, knowing the greasy man wouldn't refuse speaking to him alone.

All the while Draco and Theo watched, humoured, from the sides.

* * *

Harry looked up from his eggs as the Daily Prophet was dropped before Lucius. He had taken Draco and Theo by surprise on the first day by turning up for each meal sans book and carried polite conversation with the rest of them. The Daily Prophet was the only thing ever read during meals, and Lucius often engaged him in discussion over the articles sparing him from Theo and Draco's Quidditch debates.

"The debacle in Flourish and Blotts is barely mentioned Harry, a small article saying that Lockhart was there and he forced you to have you picture taken with him against your will, thus the reason that all pictures were left out of the article. I'm sure he will be devastated to be moved from most likely front page news to an irrelevant article, with his placement as Defense Against the Dark Arts professor added on the end like week old news."

Harry nodded in acknowledgement of the news, not needing to show his approval with how the event had been handled by the paper: his name held more weight than he had originally thought.

They ate in silence for several minutes more, the only sound being the shuffling of the paper as the pages were turned. Finally Lucius stood to leave, Draco finishing seconds later and gesturing for the two of them to follow him to the gardens where they had agreed to spend the morning.

Harry looked to Lucius instead.

"I was wondering if you would be able to spare a minute to talk before you start any important work?"

The blonde pureblood raised a sculpted eyebrow before nodding and leading the way to his office whilst Draco shrugged and the two Slytherins made their way outside.

"What was it you would like to talk about Harry?" Lucius asked once they sat opposite each other in the lush study.

"While it may sound rather presumptious, Lucius" he had been ordered by Narcissa to use their given names within minutes of his arrival, "but I would like to ask that you don't withold my invitation to the Christmas Ball this year. Draco told me last year you did so to... protect me from any potentially volatile dark wizards. However as I'm sure Draco has told _you _I have started learning the Dark Arts, and spent the summer holidays until my stay here with you. What better way is there to be introduced to the dark wizarding population of Britain than to attend the Malfoy's Christmas Ball?"

Lucius, whilst keeping a blank face for the first part of the conversation, couldn't hide the slight expression of worry that crossed his face hearing Harry was learning the Dark Arts already.

"Draco had only told me that you were interested, not that you had already begun your studies. Who did you decide on as your tutor?"

Harry glanced away from Lucius to stare out the window as he replied, "Whilst the list you provided was very helpful, I found another wizard to teach me in the Arts. Unfortunately I can't tell you their name, they are not quite ready to reveal themselves to the Dark community yet."

Lucius' expression became concerned, "Harry, are you sure you can trust this teacher of yours? There are two main reasons a dark wizard isn't known in the Dark Community. They're either not yet in control of their magic enough to be acknowledged by the rest of us, so stay hidden until they are, or they are more than powerful enough to control their strength, and are hidden because they have plans they intend to put in motion. Though the outcome of the first could cause you harm, if it is the latter, you don't know what that wizard will do to you. They will use you to reach whatever ends they might desire..."

Harry gave the blonde a shrewd look, "Like you, Lucius? I know the main reason you welcomed me into your home so was to benefit from my reputation and status as a light icon in the wizarding world. However, as you are so... concerned, I might as well inform you that my instructor has sworn a vow that he won't kill me. He also has a vested interest in my survival, though I won't tell you any more than that. Now, I shall leave you to your work, I believe Draco and Theo were rather insistent on going flying today, I might as well inform them sooner, rather than later, that they won't get me into the air any more this holiday, before they form any silly illusions otherwise."

Lucius didn't try to stop him from leaving the room, staring after him pensively before moving himself to gather some files he needed to work on that day.

* * *

Know it's not much, and know you all probably know by now how often I hate my work, so I won't go on about all the things I normally do.

Thanks for this chapter go, firstly to Eyeshield 21 for getting me back into writing, and secondly, and most importantly, to everyone who reviewed the last chapter. I just reread all your reviews today, and you're really amazing! Thanks for all the support for this fic!


	28. Chapter 28

This is short. I apologise if people get annoyed because of this, but - anyone who has read any of my earlier fics will know - if I try to write chapters many thousands of words long, I burn out and nothing gets updated for months, or years.

Thanks for all the awesome reviews! Enjoy this chapter (with more Lockhart bashing)

Disclaimer: For some reason the St Andrews university website had a picture of Harry Potter on it, with no explanation as to why (people speculate it's because we're getting closer to mastering invisibility). This has nothing to do with the fact I own nothing, just thought I'd share that rather confusing titbit...

* * *

Eye of the Beholder - Chapter Twenty Eight

When they were well on their way to Hogwarts to start their second year, or third academically in Harry's case, Harry wondered to himself what would occur during the coming months. It would be disappointing if all the excitement occurred during his first year, and from then on he suffered through the years with nothing but academics to keep his interest. He would worry more about that, if not for Lucius taking them aside before they left – after the one-sided verbal battle with between Lucius and Arthur Weasley – and told them that whatever happened that year, they would stand aside and let it happen, not making targets of themselves or drawing any unnecessary attention. Harry had wanted to question Lucius about what plans he had put into motion and for what purpose, but Lucius had forcefully pushed him onto the train before he could get a word of question out. The glare he had sent in return, through the glass, had shown he was not impressed by the elder Malfoy's methods of avoiding conversation. He would be sending Hedwig with a message to Voldemort, to see if he had heard any whispers of a plot being put into action during his glamoured trips to Diagon and Knockturn Alley. If the Dark Lord hadn't heard anything, he would be even more cautious about what was about to occur, and keep his eyes peeled for the first signs, and get further guidance if necessary.

He placed his book aside as the three of them changed into their school uniforms before slipping it back into his trunk as the train pulled into Hogsmeade. The booming voice of the groundskeeper was, unfortunately, the first thing he heard upon exiting the magical train. The trio made their way over to the awaiting carriages that appeared to have nothing to pull them to the naked eye. To Harry, he could see the magic twisting around whatever creature it was that was hidden from his normal view. He motioned Draco and Theo into the vehicle, not bothering further when they ignored his instructions. Cautiously, he reached one hand out to the area perforated with magic furthest away from the carriage, assuming as best he could, that that would be the head area. It still came as a shock when he felt a nose curiously butt against his palm, blowing hot air across the skin. Slowly, he moved his hand down the side of its muzzle, keeping the rest of his body perfectly still before patting gently at what he could only guess was part of its cheek. Pleased, and aware of the fact that most of the carriages had departed, leaving him to receive strange looks from the remaining students, he stepped back and walked back to where Draco and Theo watched, completely confused about what had just happened. He just smirked at the pair, and refused them any explanation.

When they reached the castle, Professor Flitwick was waiting for him in the Entrance Hall, and asked him for a moment alone before he headed to the Ravenclaw table. More than willing to oblige the teacher, and also having his own question to ask, he moved to the opposite side of the room as the few boys loitering made their way into the hall.

"Mr Potter, I just need to let you know about your timetable for this year. As you'll be taking three electives, rather than two, Professor Kettleburn has agreed to spend two evenings a week with you to cover the three lessons your other peers will receive whilst you are in Arithmancy. I am sure you'll be more than able to keep up, though if you have any worries, you'll come to speak with me?"

Harry nodded, "Of course Professor, though I'm sure I won't have to disturb you for anything as such. However, I was wondering if you would be willing to continue our duelling lessons? They were most definately my favourite part of last year, second being your Charms classes or course sir."

Flitwick chuckled merrily at his flattery, "As much as I am pleased to hear how much you enjoyed them, Harry," he easily took note of the change to a more familiar atmosphere in relation to their duelling lessons. Obviously Flitwick considered him as more than just a student after their lessons last year, "however I think you should give the new year a few weeks before you decide to take them on again. You'll have a lot more work this year, with the extra classes. If you still feel the same way after three weeks, then by all means drop by my office and we'll arrange something that suits both of us. Now, I do believe the new first years will be arriving any second, we'd best be making our way into the hall."

With an accepting nod, the two walked into the hall and Harry took a seat at the very end of the Ravenclaw table, much to Flitwick's consternation.

* * *

Harry didn't find any purpose in paying attention to the outcome of the sorting; he hardly associated with his year mates, why would he associate with those younger than him? Though that was hard to do when, halfway through eating his meal silently, a small boy popped up before him, snapped a picture of him with a blinding flash before running back to the Gryffindor table again without a word, only a blinding grin. The entire hall went silent for a few moments as he froze where he had been when the picture was taken: fork halfway to his mouth and eyes staring at the now empty space. Many thoughts ran through his mind, most involving the obviously first year Gryffindor suffering through many painful trials. Finally he settled on returning to eating, ignoring the glances he received from various students, some nervous, others, frustratingly, humoured. Oh how he'd love to practice some of the basic Dark Arts he'd learned that summer on those who smirked at him, particularly those who did it whilst looking down their noses at him: one day they'd pay. For now, he settled for smirking evilly at the table, only widening when the smirks fell from the others' faces rather quickly.

* * *

It seemed, during his first day of classes with his fellow third years, that the new Defence against the Dark Arts teacher, Gilderoy Lockhart, held a grudge against him for the incident in Diagon Alley. Though he suspected the biggest upset had occurred when the article on him had fallen from front page, with no doubt excessive numbers of pictures, to a short article squeezed in a few pages back, composed entirely of text.

As a method of showing his dislike of the Boy-Who-Lived, Lockhart implemented the tactic of completely ignoring him, which Harry was completely happy with, until he docked points and confiscated the book he had been reading. Harry would have been happy with the reaction to the glare he sent – a squeak, gulp then a rather high-pitched attempt at continuing the class – if it hadn't been for the fact his book still remained at the teacher's desk.

With nothing else to do, he began composing a letter, trying as much as possible to block out the biography being told first hand from the front. Harry found it a rather disheartening indication of his peers when all of the girls seemed utterly entranced by each of his words, sighing dreamily every other word.

He signed his name at the bottom of the letter before transfiguring a clump of hairs he pulled from his head – drawing the attention of several boys sitting around him, including Higgins, whom he found himself once more sharing desk space with – into a piece of ribbon to tie the parchment closed.

Content with the message, he stood from his seat, took his bag and headed for the door, ignoring the entire class that was watching him curiously, and enviously in the case of the boys.

"And what do you think you're doing, Mr Potter?" the blonde fool asked him, raising one eyebrow in question when Harry turned to look at him.

"I am going to send a letter, Professor Lockhart. From what I have seen, and I don't think I need to see any further, we are in need of a new Defence Against the Dark Arts professor. I for one don't want to spend a year learning about how you defeated a Yeti in the mountains, or how you taught an entire group of house elves, not only proper grammar, but to sing the deplorable Hogwarts school song. I will be back for my book at the end of the day."

He continued walking out of the room, and barely heard the declaration that Ravenclaw had lost twenty points and he had detention for a week over the sound of several more chairs being pushed back and possessions being gathered. He smiled to himself pleasantly: it was always fun causing a stir every now and then.

* * *

As a quick note on Harry's timetable, I know in the book Hermione did more and got a timeturner, however, they made it seem it was a one-off and no-one else was ever given that option from the Ministry, but other people (e.g. Tom Riddle) must have taken more than the required subjects before so this was the way I figured they would do it when the student is smart and is only taking one extra class. I don't think at this point in their education they had free periods...


	29. Chapter 29

As a warning a week in advance, I'll probably get a chapter up next weekend, but after that I'm away on holiday to Japan for two and a half weeks, so there will be no updates for a while... Sorry!

Most people were good about Harry's timetable, but one person didn't seem to like it :( Can anyone tell me where in the books it says that there wasn't divinations during Tom Riddle's schooling? Also, as a point to that reviewer who said that someone like TMR wouldn't have been trusted with a time turner because Hermione only got one because the staff thought she was responsible enough, Tom Riddle was the perfect student to all the teachers apart from Dumbledore, who saw thorugh his act, so he would have probably got one in my opinion. I don't meant this to sound accusatory, but it just kinda miffed me as they said ' you got that mixed up, which kind of annoys me that you purposely ignored how this worked, and twisting it simply to match your story'. Firstly, I _didn't _purposefully ignore anything, in my mind it made perfect sense, and I think most readers thought that as well. And secondly, if I don't 'twist' things for my story, then I'd just be telling the same story as JKR with no differences. The whole story has been twisted from canon... I hope people can understand that...

Also someone pointed out that Lockhart was in second year. I'm not too sure what they were trying to say... Yes, Lockhart taught during the second book, but he taught EVERY year group during that year, so it doesn't matter if Harry's taking second year or third year classes... Could people let me know if there's something really confusing that I've missed in my story?

I don't want this to sound like I'm raging at any reviewers, I just want my work to be as precise as possible!

Anyway, sorry for the half-rant for those who always moan about my ANs, and thanks for the superb reviews, you guys rock!

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. :(

* * *

Eye of the Beholder Chapter Twenty Nine

By dinner that night word had spread through the castle, as it always seemed to, of the events of their afternoon DADA lesson. It was easy to see, of the boys anyway, what other years had experienced the blonde menace. All of the girls visibly scowled at him, until he actually made eye contact, at which point most would look away swiftly. The teachers sent him disapproving looks, though he felt confident, what with the way Lockhart was telling a tale most boisterously to an unimpressed Professor McGonagall, that they might well change their opinions about his actions soon enough.

He sat at the Ravenclaw table to eat, with the large tome he'd helped himself to from Lockhart's office, which had been empty when he'd knocked so he'd made his own way in. In his opinion, if Professors left their doors so that a simply _Alohamora _would open them, they were simply asking for students to enter without permission. Once he had finished his meal, he made his way over to Draco and Theo at the Slytherin table.

"Draco, I borrowed your owl to send a letter to your father this afternoon, I hope that won't inconvenience you at all." The third year Slytherins sitting just along the table smirked and nodded in thanks, whilst Draco looked confused for several moments.

"You mean you really did mail my father because of Lockhart? Why?"

Harry smiled in amusement, "When do you have Defence, Draco?" he asked, taking a seat opposite the two blondes.

"Tomorrow morning, why?"

"If you still want an answer to that question after tomorrow, ask me again then."

The blonde shared a confused look with Theo before nodding, before going back to the original discussion, "Is there something wrong with Hedwig?"

"She's already away delivering a letter for me. I sent her before class this morning."

Draco looked like he was going to ask further questions when Theo nudged him discreetly, "How about we head to the library after dinner?" he asked, and Draco took the hint that maybe they should wait until they were alone to talk about whatever mail Hedwig was delivering.

In fact, Draco and Theo didn't even make it to the library, as Harry told them as they made their way there that he had been sending a message to his tutor, and that he wouldn't tell them more than that. The two Slytherins left disappointed at not getting anything else from the Ravenclaw, as Harry began the task of picking out his first set of books for the new school year.

He met the two on his way to the Great Hall for lunch the next day, and they dragged him to the Slytherin table to eat, not letting him get a word in edgeways as they ranted about how '_utterly appalling_' the defence lesson they had sat through had been. They had, they apologised, doubted him the previous day, especially when they had been handed a quiz to start off with, but as soon as they looked over the questions to find they all related to the man himself, rather than any form of defence, they were already planning the letters they would write to their parents in complaint. They, rather loudly, announced that, if many parents received complaints from their children, surely something would be done about it.

Harry merely chuckled at their pompous outrage before admitting what the actual purpose of his letter had been.

"I really would love to have a useful DADA teacher, and if that is the eventual outcome, I'll be most pleased. However, the truth is, I am hoping that Lucius will come to Hogwarts himself to assess the situation. There is something I want to talk to him about, and it's something better done in person than through owl correspondence."

His two companions looked shocked for a moment, before Draco narrowed his eyes, "You talked alone with my father before as well. What is it you're talking with him about all the time?"

Slightly surprised at Draco's almost jealous tone, Harry blinked his one visible eye before placating him, "At the manor I was only talking to him about the Malfoy Christmas Ball."

Draco looked slightly appeased, but still questioned him further, "And now?"

Harry gave him a piercing look: Draco often pushed too far in his questioning, and should have learnt by now that was one thing that Harry couldn't stand.

"And now, I think I will head to the library. Feel free to join me."

* * *

Theo was the only one to approach Harry the next day, and tried to explain that Draco had only reacted that way because Lucius seemed to take more interest in Harry whilst he had been staying with them, and he had always had to fight for his father's attention as it was, and Harry seemed to gain it without even trying to.

Harry informed Theo that Draco would have to get used to it, because he planned to interact with Lucius many times in the coming years, they both held large amounts of political sway that they other could use.

Draco approached him the next day and apologised for his behaviour and Harry accepted with grace: they were both of high status after all, no need to allow petty disagreements come between them.

It showed how much he valued the two that he then conceded the information the small fallout had been started by, and informed them that he wanted to talk to Lucius about what he had warned them about before they had left for Hogwarts. Both remembered the warning without prompt, and didn't mention it again: the secretive manner Lucius had imparted the advice with was enough to let them know it wasn't something to speak about casually.

* * *

Harry had his first Arithmancy and Ancient Runes classes that day, and was disappointed to find that the reading on the subjects he had begun last year seemed to cover a good half of the course content for the year, most likely more, in both subjects. However in both cases, he knew there was enough varied applications of the material that there would still be parts covered that he would find interesting, and the revision always helped.

Professor Kettleburn had agreed to spend an hour with him on Thursday and Friday afternoons, for which Harry was sure to thank him in depth, making certain to charm the scarred professor as they would be spending large amounts of time along with each other, and, as a senior member of staff, having served at the castle for several decades now, he would be a good source of information on the other professors.

The class had been looking at Magical Toads, also called Dead Potion Toads because the parts most useful to potion making only became useful once the toad had died a natural death. They spent the hour going through the various parts that would be used in potions, what the uses could be and then drawing a diagram of the frog, to be correctly labelled for the next day.

They headed back to the castle together when Harry asked a question he had waited until the lesson was over to ask.

"Professor, could you please tell me what it is that pulls the school carriages? Surely it must be some sort of magical creature, but I can't think of anything the necessary size that has the ability to turn invisible..."

He trailed off as Kettleburn chuckled. "They're not invisible, Mr Potter, they just can't be seen by most, and that is a hard difference to understand. It might be helpful if I tell you the creatures are Thestrals."

He laughed once more at the look of dawning comprehension on Harry's face.

"I take that to mean you've heard of them? Would you like to tell me what you know about them?"

Harry nodded, arranging his thoughts, "Thestrals are horse-like creatures, with amazing senses of direction. The reason most people can't see them is because you have to have 'seen death' before your eyes can accept the sight of one and transmit the image to your brain. Most people believe this is because the sight of death taints the person, thus propagating the rumour that thestrals are 'dark' creatures. However, another, less known theory that is more credible exists, in that witnessing death opens your eyes and mind to the level of existence that Thestrals live at. It's a rather interesting section of research."

The Care of Magical Creatures professor looked overjoyed at the depth of his answer and clapped his scarred hands, which were missing several fingers. "Very good Mr Potter, fifteen points to Ravenclaw are in order, I think. Having worked with the creatures myself, I also tend to lend credence to the latter explanation, however it's rather expected that the ministry would go with the prior."

He huffed in frustration at the thought as they made their way through the front doors and parted ways for separate tables in the Great Hall, with the professor saying he was rather looking forward to their lesson together tomorrow.

Harry could admit that he too would find it rather enjoyable, if their discussions that day were anything to go on.

* * *

As he lay in his bed that night, he took the time to watch Voldemort as he often did, and was relieved to see Hedwig finally arrive with the letter. He wondered if the Dark Lord sometimes forgot that Harry could watch each of his moves, when he gave Hedwig a tender stroke before offering her a perch on the back of his chair. Not that Harry could mock his actions, somehow Hedwig had a way of playing on everyone's soft spot, whilst having a fair amount of control at the same time. Harry almost smiled proudly at the thought.

For now, he watched Voldemort open the letter and several moments later frown at the short note. It seemed whatever plan Lucius was involved in wasn't known to the Dark Lord. Harry would just have to be even more alert to what was going on around him.

With that question resolved, he slipped into the meditative trance he had practiced that summer: it seemed learning this would be even more important than they'd originally thought.

* * *

Reviews are love.


	30. Chapter 30

Thanks for all the amazing reviews, as always! And I'm glad you're all enjoying the Harry/Lockhart interactions :D There be more! (arggg...)

And apologies for the long wait, I was meant to update before I went on my holidays but circumstances prevented that.

Disclaimer: If I owned the rights to HP, I would ensure there was more than just Sirius/Remus (I like the pairing, but only as a side-pairing) doujinshi available for when I make trips to Japan.

* * *

Eye of the Beholder Chapter Thirty

Even with the letter of complaint he had sent to Lucius, Harry still had another lesson of DADA to sit through on the Friday and it seemed Lockhart had returned to his attempts at ignoring him whilst regaling them with tales from his 'adventures'. Thankfully, he had also given up on taking away the book he was reading, though Harry found it difficult to block out his whiny voice.

"And just as the Gytrash began to approach, slinking closer through the shadows with the grace of a natural predator, I _whipped _out my wand" the sentence illustrated with an action, "and, just as it leapt through the air, jaws stretched wide to clasp around my neck, I cast the spell '_lumos' _directly into its eyes, sending it cowering away."

He had the audacity to bow as the females of the class heartily cheered. Harry didn't bother to look up from his book as he commented.

"Professor, as entertaining as your _stories _are, I don't think the spell _lumos_ is the most apt lesson for a class of third years. In fact, Professor Flitwick covers the spell in first year, and for the portion of the class that grew up in the wizarding world, the knowledge to repel Gytrashes with the spell – though _Lumos Maxima _is much more effective and will repel them consistently, rather than the once – is common knowledge. I am sure, of course, with all the books you've published, that during the next week you'll be covering far more relevant lessons..."

He turned a page, ignoring the stark silence the class had fallen into for the few seconds that remained before the bell rang, at which he closed his books and left the class, once more ignoring the attempts Lockhart made to call him back.

It was something only Harry could manage, Theo had said, that after a week in the castle, he had managed to perfectly split opinion on him. The girls were fixed in their hatred of him after the way he'd talked down to Lockhart, whilst the boys could only praise his quick wit before the blonde fool. It was the teachers that he found the most amusement in, as their post dictated they support their fellow colleagues, but it was easy to see none of them had any patience for the new professor. Therefore the majority had chosen to stay out of the ensuing battle between the two of them, with the exceptions of Professor Flitwick – whom had been obliged to take Harry aside after Charms to discuss his discontent with the current teaching staff, and had been more than sympathetic when he had explained the lessons they had suffered through so far, he was well aquainted with Harry's studious needs – and Professor Snape who would take any opportunity to talk down to Harry. It was only the implication that the potion's master was, in fact, a huge fan of Lockhart, which was met with the worthy sneer, that caused him to stop bringing Harry's insolent attitude to his teachers up during their classes.

* * *

It was to Draco's great joy when he managed to make the Slytherin quidditch team and, whilst Harry knew he had managed it on talent, it was obvious that the majority would assume that the blonde had bought his way on, what with the complete set of Nimbus 2001s that were delivered the following day, courtesy of Lucius. For Harry, though he was pleased for Draco, it was an unfortunate event as he was then _forced _to attend all the Slytherin games, and several of their training sessions when Draco first began as well.

He guessed it was worth it when, after the first game – which Slytherin managed to win, even with Gryffindor's superior Chasers, their poor Seeker was no match for the Malfoy – he managed to catch up with Lucius before he disappeared from the castle.

"Lucius, I was wondering if I could have a word about that letter I sent you, as a Hogwarts Governor?" he asked the elder man, ignoring the look he received from Snape in regards to his use of the Lord's first name.

"Most certainly Harry, I'm sure Severus would lend us his office to speak privately?" he looked to the dour man.

"Certainly," he drawled, looking most unwilling.

When they reached the office, which Harry looked around curiously, offering Snape a compliment on the large collection of rare potions ingredients he had amassed, much to the Professor's disdain, the two settled into a pair of chairs Lucius summoned before he cast several layers of privacy wards once Snape had left them on Harry's request.

"I received your letter a week and a half ago Harry, and have managed to have a brief talk with the head of the Department of Education in the Ministry, and set up a further meeting for this coming week."

Harry nodded in thanks, before leaning further forward in his seat. "I much appreciate that Lucius, however that is not what I wanted to talk to you about. I want to know what you have planned for this school year." His visible eye stared piercingly into the blonde's, which narrowed at the question.

"Whilst you are very smart, Harry, you aren't ready to know everything that is going on here. There are things about to start that are far above you, and all you should know is that it's in your best interest to keep your head down." The order in his voice only served to aggravate Harry further, but he forced himself to calm down and consider Lucius for several tense moments.

Finally, he made a decision and reached one had to undo the ties of his eyepatch as he began speaking.

"No Lucius, there are thing at work in the world right now, that _you _have no idea about, and if whatever you have planned were to interfere, the outcome would be most unpleasant. I have _seen everything _that is happening."

He continued to stare intently at the older wizard as the ties slid past each other and he caught the eye patch in his free hand before it fell to the floor. The widening of Lucius' eyes was expected, however he was completely caught off guard when the Slytherin fell to the floor in a bow.

"My Lord!"

Harry managed to stop the shocked laughter that almost fell from his lips, and quickly schooled his face into a nonchalant expression. He hadn't expected the Malfoy to make that assumption, but there was so much more he could manage if he played it through, though he'd need to keep in touch with Voldemort himself more frequently now he had revealed this card to Lucius.

"Get up Lucius. You are not to speak a word of this to anyone, even your family or any others from the inner circle. Now tell me, _what is it you have done?"_

It was almost embarrassing, watching the noble trip over himself to sit again before explaining, with many apologies, what he had planned for Hogwarts.

"I had no idea, my Lord, no indication that you were this close to returning to your former power! I should have known, when the Potter boy showed such potential, such power, that it wasn't his! Only you have that strength!" Harry felt justly slighted by that implication.

"If I had known that you were here, my Lord, I would have never have used the diary you entrusted me with. However you must let me explain! The Weasley is trying to put a pro-muggle bill through the Ministry! Everything I have done so far has been to further your goals in your stead!"

Harry watched the man quiver, staring him down with as much fury as he could. He could only guess what importance the diary he spoke of held, but the most probable, and worst, scenario was that it was a horcrux. In which case he had to recover it before anything untoward happened and it was put in any risk.

"You tried to use the diary you swore to safeguard, for your _own _gain Lucius?" he spat. "If we weren't within the Hogwarts wards you would not be sitting so comfortably! Tell me which Weasley you gave my diary to!"

Watching Lucius Malfoy squirm in his seat, and splutter for several moments before a glare from his silenced him was almost painful.

"I... I'm most sincerely sorry, my Lord, but I don't know who owned the cauldron I slipped the book into: it could be any of the five children..."

Harry hissed, trying to imitate the annoyance he'd seen Voldemort express during the summer and began to finger his wand as if having to hold himself back from casting a curse. He easily noticed the way the blonde's eyes flickered to it, then back to staring at his face.

He left the silence hanging for several minutes, making a show of calming down to think over what he would do next.

Finally he turned back to stare Lucius in the eyes, as he started going through the motions of tying his patch back into place. "For now, you are to do nothing, go about your day as you normally would and inform _no-one_," he repeated to enforce that order. "I will deal with the mess you have caused here. However expect my owl when I require anything further from you."

He stood and made his way to do the door, leaving the other sitting there. "And do do something to get rid of that infernal Defence professor. I would hate to expose myself to Dumbledore by killing the idiot."

* * *

Hopefully people liked that development. Just to confirm incase people didn't get it - that was not what Harry had expected to happen. He planned to explain his connection with Voldie to him and demand answers. Instead, he just played along with Lucius' assumption, being as opportunistic as ever.


	31. Chapter 31

So... as you can probably tell I have very little time for writing at the moment :( The uni work is building up, got a few cosplays I have to get finished, K-pop dances to learn and a possible trip to the great US of A to plan. Not to mention watching anime, reading manga and fanfics! Okay, so they don't sound like actual good excuses, but my life doesn't revolve around writing fanfics! I suspect that it will remain this way until January, after exams (though given that this fic was started the day before an exam instead of revising...)

But you get a chapter today, because I just received a review from a wonderful, wonderful author who's works are some of my favourites! (I think you probably know who you are :P)

Disclaimer: I own not a single word from a single page of a single book from the HP series. Sad times.

* * *

Last chapter: Harry revealed his eye to Lucius.

Lucius made a fool of himself.

Harry ran with it.

* * *

Chapter Thirty One

The moment he finished with Lucius, he headed to the library which was empty as the entire school tended to head to dinner after the Quidditch match. There he hastily put together a letter to Voldemort before making his way to the Owlery where Hedwig willingly took the letter from him, not even waiting for him to tell her where to go and flying off after giving his ear a nip.

He headed to dinner as the majority of the students were beginning to leave, trying to form a plan for what to do now that there were other plans at work. It was most difficult as his next actions depended on what the Dark Lord told him. For now, he'd just have to wait and keep an eye on the Weasleys in the school.

* * *

It was Wednesday during Charms that Hedwig arrived at Voldemort's hideaway and he witnessed first hand – or the equivalent when watching through the Dark Lord's eyes – how the wizard reacted to the news that his diary had been placed in Hogwarts. The green glow that was emitted from his wand was a sure sign that whatever Lucius' actions had caused was not good. The entirety of his office was upended before he managed to calm down, and it was only because he his wand had never strayed to the ceiling where Hedwig watched disapprovingly, that Harry found it amusing.

Finally, when he his breathing returned to a regular pattern, the Dark Lord straightened the parchment in his free hand and read the rest. During the several minutes of silence as he contemplated what had been written, Harry turned his attention back to his class, relieved to find his classmates still trying to grasp to spell they were learning that day, with twenty minutes still remaining.

"As you presumed, the diary is in fact, one of my horcruxes and it is imperative you retrieve it from the hands of those _blood-traitors!_ However it is significantly more than that. The diary holds my memories from when I was at Hogwarts, and will work towards restoring itself to life by possessing whomever it is that writes in its pages. At the same time, it will also reopen the Chamber of Secrets to purge the school of _mudbloods._ You need to retrieve it before that can happen, otherwise the school risks closure, and my horcrux risks exposure to Dumbledore, who would no doubt end up figuring out I have more than just that one and _no-one _can know that beyond the two of us! Keep a close eye on the Weasleys, but we can't trust that you will be able to retrieve it just using observation. Focus all your spare time into trying to expand the link between us. If that can be established into a two way link, it's entirely plausible you would be able to use it to track down the other parts of my soul."

Whilst they had been aiming throughout the training during the summer to allow Voldemort to see through his eye, in the same way Harry could use his, he could tell that the thought of letting him gain access to his other Horcruxes as well was not at all appealing to the Dark Lord, however Harry was the only person capable of attaining the diary before anything untoward happened to it, so he had no choice but to ask that of him.

"I have almost finished work on the two-way mirrors, so your owl will stay with me until I can send one back with you. Until then, stay alert Potter. And inform me of the first sign that the Chamber has been opened, it won't be something you could miss."

He started to wave his wand around the room, returning it to its previous condition. "And with regards to Lucius Malfoy, I will permit you to continue with your masquerade for now, as it may be beneficial to have his support, however he cannot know the truth about myself yet, for now you will be me in his eyes, until the plans have been finalised."

Almost as if timed, the bell rang signalling the end of the lesson and Harry abruptly returned his focus to his own body.

* * *

By the end of that week he was no further towards either identifying who held the diary, or being able to develop the link between him and the Dark Lord into a two directional deal. He _had _however, been able to pick up faint smells that he could not in any way associate with his surroundings at the time, hoping that that meant his meditation and complete inner focus each night was doing something.

Voldemort had sent Hedwig to Hogwarts the previous night with one of a pair of mirrors and a note he hadn't managed to read before it was sealed. He was expecting her arrival early the next week.

There had also been no further news from Lucius but he could wait longer for that.

The good news, however, was that it was the end of the third week of term, and the end of the period Professor Flitwick had assigned to allow before he could request lessons in duelling once more. He had debated whether or not he should request them, when there was so much trouble brewing with the lost diary, but he knew Flitwick would have been monitoring his class progress and, as such, expecting his presence any day. It was almost a relief when the Professor informed him that had was a tad bit too busy for the next few weeks, and he would let him know about starting the lessons again sometime in October, most likely part way through the month.

That gave him roughly another two weeks before they began, not very much time, to try and figure out who had the diary, by whatever means was available.

It was the thirteenth of October, as Harry sat staring unseeingly at the curtains surrounding his bed with the two way mirror before him and Voldemort in a similar position on the other end, that they finally made significant progress.

For several weeks previously, Harry had been able to access the Dark Lord's other senses – not something the wizard was all too pleased about – and each night they had been entering their own consciousness and following the link that connected them as far as they could. The process was much easier for Harry, as he'd had access to it since the moment it was created. Voldemort, however, could hardly get beyond the borders of his own mind when they first started, and had made slow progress until that night, when their two minds finally made contact for the briefest moment and the Dark Lord received the image of the blue curtains Harry's eyes were staring at. It was a significant step forward, however they refrained from celebrating as they had much further to go before it could be useful. It was the first step, in what could possibly become a marathon: a race against the clock.

* * *

The next week, Flitwick held him back after class to let him know that he was free to start their lessons, and ask if he was available on Friday nights, to which Harry replied with an enthusiastic yes. The two walked to dinner together, Flitwick jokingly informing him that he'd better not have lost any of the skills he'd cultivated the last year. When they arrived at the Great Hall, there was a certain buzz about the students that both of them could tell was caused by something of interest occurring. It didn't take long for them to notice the additional wizard at the staff table, with a stern expression and straight back, observing the students.

"Ah! It seems your complaints have been well placed, Mr Potter. That is Mr Pierce, who is the Ministry representative on the Hogwarts Educational Board. Headmaster Dumbledore informed us that we would be hosting a guest for a period of... _assessment._" Far from looking upset at that prospect, the diminutive professor looked excited, as he beamed up at Harry and dusted his robes off. "It's been a while since I last got to show off my fancy charms work, not to mention my extremely capable students!" With a spring in his step he made his way to the head table and introduced himself to the taller wizard who seemed genuinely pleased to meet the professor.

He scanned around the hall and caught the two blonde Slytherins' gazes, easily identifying the 'if you don't come sit with us right now we will drag you in an unsightly manner over here anyway' message they were conveying and acquiescing with a sigh.

"So? Do you know who he is?" Draco demanded once he had taken a seat.

Harry barely managed a nod before the attention of the hall was demanded by Dumbledore as he took a stand before them.

"As I'm sure you have all noticed, Hogwarts will be entertaining a guest for a period of time. This is Mr Pierce from the Ministry's Education Department who will be... observing the staff during their lessons, as some doubts have been raised in regards to the standard of teaching at Hogwarts. I'm sure you will all oblige him in any questions he asks you, and that the staff will prove more than adequately for him."

As the headmaster took his seat again, the murmurs from before escalated into a rousing chatter. The majority of the male students looked ecstatic, whilst the females merely turned their noses up at them, sure that _Gilderoy Lockhart _wouldn't have any problem passing whatever tests necessary.

Harry couldn't help the pleased smirk, especially on noticing the pallor that had overcome the Defence professor's face.

_Finally._

* * *

I know quite a few of you were expect Voldie to go insane at Harry for pretending to be him, however you have to take into account that Voldie wants to remain hidden at present so Harry is the only means he can get anything done (to a degree). He does have a plan (which I know the vague outline of, he won't tell me the details!) So, yeah, that's how I pictured him reacting to the news.

Sorry it took so long, hope it was worth it!


End file.
